Just One Word
by A Soldier Of My Own
Summary: An unknown solider. Tossed aside, she was forgotten. It would have been nice to know some one cared…And even though she was surrounded by a company of men, she was so very alone… JoeToyexOC
1. Prologue

-1**Author's Note: **Ah, another story. This one will be a bit different than my other. It may not be updated as fast, though. I got this idea today whilst sitting in the cafeteria at school, staring at the clock, and wishing I was somewhere else. Damn, it's boring there…

The song used in this chapter is called "The Unknown Solider" and I have no idea who it is by, but it is most definitely _not _mine. It's from 1926. And I am _not _that old…

And if you thought I was, I should punch you…

**Title: **Just One Word

**Rating: **T (PG-13) Yeah. For language, death and probably violence. But mostly language and death.

**Summary: **An unknown solider. Tossed aside, she was forgotten. It would have been nice to know some one cared…And even though she was surrounded by a company of men, she was so very alone…

**Disclaimer: **Since these are real people, I own nothing but my characters. This story is purely fictional, and I hope no one is offended by it. Thank you.

**Prologue**

It was cold. So _damn _cold, she thought her fingers were going to fall off. Snow was encrusted on her coat, any warmth she might have gained seeping out through the chill of winter.

Rubbing her hand together, she felt the snow shift and give way under her feet, displacing a bit more each time she took a step. White powder fell from the sky in gentle waves, coating the ground and the forest in a blanket of white.

_Snow is beautiful_, she reflected grimly. _When it isn't trying to _kill _you._

It seemed like her battalion had been on the move for days now. They hardly ever stopped to rest, and for them, fires were forbidden. They couldn't risk getting caught out in the open, and smoke, or even the fire itself, was a dead giveaway of their position.

_It's too risky to stay warm, _she thought unhappily, and rubbed her hands down her coat-clad arms.

Her heavy jacket did little to shield her from the cold. If she had her way, she'd have scrounged a _hundred _jackets by now, and piled herself under them for a thousand year nap. But of course, her commander had sent _her _for supplies.

If she hadn't known better, she'd have thought he actually _wanted _her to die.

The town of Foy wasn't very lively. In fact, it almost seemed deserted. She wondered, briefly, what supplies he had sent her here for. It wasn't as if they had any to spare for a rag-tag battalion that had moved into the area only a few days before. They were short on men, ammunition, artillery, food, and supplies. _They have their winter clothing_, she reminded herself dully, _but they lack the men to fill those clothes._

A glance over her shoulder, and a brief thought for the enemy.

She wondered if they fared better than their counterparts. Briefly, she hoped that they did. She would not wish such a fate upon anyone. And it was just so damn _cold_!

The snow crunched and shifted beneath her boots, as she topped that last, small mound of before her and stood in front of the city. How pathetic it looked. It had taken a few hits, to be certain, for the enemy _wanted _to take it over. She wondered _why_. Surely this scrap of pitiful land wasn't worth dying over?

Her shoulder shrugged, and she watched as her breath materialized and then vanished in the cold, crisp air.

She was no now, she had to remind herself constantly. Not a soldier, not a general or a commander. She could never see the reasoning behind war, but that was because she was not _fighting _now. In fact, she wondered why she was even here at all. She could have been far more useful to her commander if she had been stationed elsewhere. But he had instructed her to remain with _this _battalion, whilst her comrades, those she had known for many long years of training, were sorted and mixed into the other battalions.

She was _surrounded _by a company of men, but she was so _very _alone.

The girl picked up her pace, but as she neared the outskirts, her footing was compromised, and she slipped on a patch of ice. Down she went, and a few choice words flew from her blue, trembling lips. She cursed the snow, and the cold, and the war. She cursed everyone and everything she knew or saw. And then she stood up, and brushed herself off.

_A lapse in judgment_, she decided. _I should not be so foolish. _

She could not afford to be seen as weak. She could not afford to let them know just how _frightened _she was to be here. She couldn't afford a _single _mistake. It could cost her, and her commander, dearly. And not only would she pay with her life, but so would countless other soldiers, on either side.

Huffing, she wrapped her arms around herself, and trudged on, careful now of anything that might cause her to let down her guard.

It took her a few short minutes to reach the man in charge of this small town. He wasn't busy. The enemy was watching, _waiting_. They hadn't attacked, as of yet. It was safe…_for now_. Pulling off her gloves, she turned the knob to the rickety old door of his probably only recently acquired office, and squeezed into the warm, fire-filled room.

Hell, that whole damn _room _could have been ablaze, and she _still _would have gone in. Anything to be warm!

Chuckling to herself, she shut the door behind her, and rubbed her trembling hands together above the fire after she crossed the room. The commander, who had been in one of the many back rooms, strode through the door.

As if it had a mind of it's own, her body grew rigid, and she instantly pivoted and saluted the higher ranking officer. The man nodded, dipping his head to her in acknowledgement before he too, joined her by the fire, sitting in a very large, lavish chair.

He looked tired. And old. His face was worn, and he had a grim expression that told of trouble on the horizon. She had an odd foreboding, and she could not shake the feeling that something important was about to happen. Something she could neither foresee, nor control.

He smiled up at her, his dark blue eyes swirling with his many thoughts, and waved a hand for her to sit in the chair across for him. Obligingly, she did so, and the moment she touched the soft cushion, she felt every muscle relax almost instantly. How long had it been since she had _felt _such comfort? Hell, _any _type of comfort. Half a pillow, a square of a blanket, a warmer jacket or pair of trousers. _Anything _would have been comfort to her. But this, this chair…It was _pure bliss_.

The commander must have noticed her disheveled and tired countenance, for he remarked upon it as she sat, basking in the relative luxury offered by this simple chair. His smile did not quite reach his eyes, but it touched his cold, chapped lips.

"Nurse? Did they send you all _alone_?" His kind smile did not fade, and the woman snapped her head forward, eyes wary as they settled upon his tired features.

"Yes," she replied almost instantly, "They did, sir. I was instructed to make my way to Foy to retrieve supplies for my company. We are in desperate need, sir. We have little food, few bandages. Our ammunition is very low. They sent out two scouts an hour before I left, and they tried to find their way here as well, but apparently they went in the wrong direction. We found them only twenty minutes later, both shot dead. After that, I was given orders to come here, and beg, borrow or steal what I could. But I certainly don't want to _steal_, sir."

The man placed a hand to his forehead, and closed his eyes. The woman sat in relative silence, her eyes flickering towards the fire as it crackled and burned and lapped teasingly at the fireplace. Shadows danced across their features as the peaceful silence stretched on, and then was broken.

"_Supplies_? I can only give you a little. A day's worth of food, enough bandages and morphine for thirteen or less wounded, and enough ammunition to last you through tomorrow. But that is all. I will send a man with you to help you carry what you need." He made a noise in the back of his throat, and glanced at the door. There was a click, and it opened, and a man stepped through it.

The man was clean cut, his dark hair and dark eyes an odd contrast to this fair haired, blue eyed commander. But the woman paid his appearance little heed. To her, that entire 'racial superiority' issue, wasn't really an issue at all. She couldn't understand why it was such a huge deal. They put _far _too much emphasis on their idea of 'purity.'

Her own dark hair and dark eyes were proof enough of that. In fact, she quite enjoyed having them, for they set her apart from the other nurses, the blond haired, blue eyed type. The only reason she was where she was today, was because she had clawed her way to the top, honed her skills, and used her many connections.

It was _good _to have friends.

The man saluted the commander, and then her as well. She was slightly taken aback. No one _ever _saluted her. She was a nurse, not a general. She was a woman, not a lieutenant colonel. She was unimportant, not like the average solider. So why then, did he do it? She was almost certain that if the commander had not been there to witness it, then it never would have happened. It was a mild form of respect, not for her, but for the commander's _company_. Like he was taking care to wipe his feet before he stepped on the expensive bear rug.

She cringed inwardly, but her face remained cold, impassive, and blank. She stood, unhappily of course, and left the relative comfort of the chair. Going rigid once more, she offer the commander a salute, and he nodded once more. "Take care, miss," he called wearily, as she followed the man out the door.

He said nothing, but she assumed he knew where he was going. They weaved around buildings an rubble, until they came to a house that looked relatively intact. She balked at entering, for such rickety foundation made her nervous, and she wondered about the stability of the roof and the walls. But the man ushered her forward, his face scrunching up in annoyance and irritation as he pushed her through the door.

She stumbled through the entry way, but caught herself before she fell. The glare she focused upon her young escort went unnoticed as he began to heave boxes out of a corner. She glanced at them, and then at her own hands. She could not carry something so heavy over such a great distance.

But she would endure. If he _thought _she could, then she _would_. A grim expression settled over her troubled features, and she bent to pick up one of the boxes. The man rushed over and slapped her hands away.

"No, not _this _one. It's not for _you_." He handed her a small box, light, and poorly filled. There were a handful of bandages, a few rounds of ammunition, and only a couple boxes of rations. _Not _what the commander had promised.

"What _is _this?" she demanded instantly, her heavy eyes lighting up with a stubborn indignation. They flashed dangerously. "This is _not _what I was promised. Where are my supplies?"

The man scoffed, and set his hands on his hips, his dark eyes glowering down at her. "Those are your _supplies_, woman. Take them or leave them. Now get out of my sight. I have more _important _things to do than baby-sit some wayward _nurse_." He turned his back on her, and the woman was left to stand in the middle of the drafty hall, mouth agape.

The nerve!

If she wasn't so certain she'd be shot, she'd have leapt over the boxes and snapped his neck in two. One of the many _perks _of her physical training. Controlling her temper…yet _another _perk. But no one was to know of it, not even her own _family_…

She snorted hotly, and pivoted, marching out of the old building with a furious growl erupting from her throat. They had no _right _to treat her like this! She had done just as much as _any _of them! Her brows knit dangerously as she quickly made her way to the outskirts of town.

Turning around, she gave Foy one last backward glance, and turned her lips downward in an annoyed frown. She was _glad _to be rid of this place, once and for all. And when the enemy attacked, she wouldn't be the _least _bit sorry to see that young man become a prisoner. But her thoughts then turned to the commander, and his kind smile and tired eyes. She prayed for him, and for the ret of the poor souls trapped in such a merciless place.

She hoped they would find peace when they were gone.

----

"_Finally_!"

The man rushed towards the woman, and took the box from her hands. She said nothing, but took her customary place near the back of their camp, a small, but deep, foxhole her only comfort, her only welcome. She watched as the men dug around in the box, each face so eager, and then so disappointed.

_It was not my fault_, she reminded herself. And why should _she _care what happens to them? Just because she was their nurse, did _not _mean she had any affection for this particular company. She didn't know _them_, and they made no effort to get to know _her_.

She had no love for this place, _or _these men.

She watched, uncaring, impassive, as they emptied the box, never thinking to offer her food, though she had trekked long and far to retrieve what they now ate. She wondered how long it had been since she'd had more than a stale slice of bread and that damnable canned cheese. And when was the last time she had fresh, clear water? Not some snow that had to be melted off the ground.

It was _ridiculous_.

She watched them eat, she watched them rifle through the box's contents, and then leave the empty crate there. And she stared at the box, so alone, left in the snow, and she noted just how like her it really was.

Uncared for.

Dismissed.

Overlooked.

_Forgotten…_

She hadn't expected her commander to remember her. She hadn't expected him to care. But she _had _expected _relief_. At least _once_. _One _time. One letter home. One letter _from _home. To talk to some one from her own home town. To talk to some one from her former battalion, for Christ's sake.

But no. None of it came. It would give away her position, give away the objectives. And she couldn't risk it. This mission was _far _too important to allow her emotions to screw it all up now. But still…It would have been nice to know _some one _cared…

Just one word was all she wanted. Just one _God damned _word of comfort. Was that too much to ask?

---

The sound of an explosion rocketing overhead shook her awake.

It _couldn't _be the enemy, could it? She wondered on this briefly, as she unraveled herself from her blanket, and hauled her frozen body from the foxhole. She was stiff, and sore. Her limbs and shoulders ached, and her torso felt like it had been folded into thirds.

She doubled over for a moment as she heaved out of the foxhole, and was nearly knocked over by a solider who hurried past her.

Her hand shot out to steady herself, and caught on a tree. Nobody cares, she reflected grimly, before straightening her body, and flexing her stiff muscles. Her dark eyes followed the path of the fumbling solider, and she watched, wide eyed, as she realized that they weren't running in front of her, but behind her.

They were _retreating_…

The thought echoed glumly in her mind, and her first instinct was to run. But _no_. She would be cut down if she did so. She was far too easy a target. Her legs propelled her forward of their own accord, and she found herself running almost perpendicular to her company's frantic retreat.

She was hunched over, clutching at the shoulder bag that hung in front of her. In his bag, was her objective. Everything she had fought for tooth and nail for nearly two years would be _lost_, if she were to allow herself to _lose this bag_.

She could have run faster if she had dropped it. She could have gotten away. She could have been _free_. But she would never, _ever _let this fall into the wrong hands. She felt her legs burning, her muscles aching from the constant force of their exertion. And then, without warning, she dove behind a boulder. It was huge, covered with snow. But most importantly, it was _safe_.

She watched, helplessly, as her fellow soldiers were cut down as they ran. She knew it would have been inevitable, and she knew she had made a good choice in the direction of her _own _retreat. Her arms trembled as her lips formed the words of a song that had kept her comforted through the long, cold nights.

"Oh, I'd like to see their faces  
When they reach the Devil's door,  
But even down in Hell  
There is no torture such as war.

I am the Unknown Soldier  
And maybe I died in vain,  
But if I were alive and my country called  
I'd do it all over again."

She shivered violently, from shock, and from the cold. And she heard the shouts of the enemy as they advanced past her position, oblivious to the presence of a lone woman, whose soul mission was to bring back victory for her country. What she clutched close to her chest so desperately, was _intelligence_. Intelligence that could make, or break the soldiers around her.

She wondered if any of them knew. And she wondered if any of them _cared_.

Her dark eyes drifted closed, and her body jerked violently. Perhaps she could just die here, pass on in peace, and go undiscovered. She would not be missed. Her name would be erased from the record, and it'd be as though she was never there at all.

_Suddenly, a click, and a sharp intake of breath._

Wearily, she lifted her head to stare into the eyes of an unknown solider. _Not an enemy,_ she told herself warily, _but a friend. _Slowly, slowly, she stood up, dropping the bag at her feet, but making sure he couldn't get to it, unless he went through her.

There was an _eagle _on his shoulder.

Their eyes met, and he blinked, quietly, before he realized that she was no man. She was no solider. A smile warmed her lips, the first _real _smile she had ever worn in Europe, and those words, those few, _dreaded _words that she had never _dared _to utter in this God-awful place, passed through those lips.

"I'm an American."

---

**Author's Note: **Well, what do you think so far? Is it all right? I am actually quite proud of this chapter…Review, please. I would be so very happy if you did. Yaya!


	2. Friends and Enemies

-1**Author's Note: **Chapter two! Man, any inspiration I had flew _right _out the damn window…Sorry this isn't as good as the first chapter.

**Title: **Just One Word

**Rating: **T (PG-13) Yeah. For language, death and probably violence. But mostly language and death.

**Summary: **An unknown solider. Tossed aside, she was forgotten. It would have been nice to know some one cared…And even though she was surrounded by a company of men, she was so very alone…

**Disclaimer: **Since these are real people, I own nothing but my characters. This story is purely fictional, and I hope no one is offended by it. Thank you.

**Chapter 1: **Friends and Enemies

"I am an American."

Joe Toye blinked in disbelief.

Had he not just found this German woman hiding behind a rock, in the middle of the God damn German lines? How in the hell was he supposed to believe a word she said? She was _probably _lying.

His dark eyes narrowed slowly, and he peered at her from beneath his large, green helmet.

She looked like she had been on the line as long as he had. Her features were drawn, and her face looked tired. However, the smile that flickered across her lips was warm, and the light in her eyes told of her joy.

She was _happy_? For what reason? She was a German, for heaven's sake. And he was pointing a gun at her!

The young solider was certainly confused. "Come again?" he questioned softly, still pointing his rifle at this strange, enchanting woman. She smiled again, and lifted her hands in the air, a universal signal for surrender.

"I'm an American. Don't shoot." Her voice was calm, reasonable, but there was a hint of urgency lacing the undertones, and if he hadn't been keyed in to every subtle change in the enemy's countenance, he might not have caught it.

Motioning with his gun, he pointed at the bag. "What's in there, _explosives_?" She seemed to be rather protective over the sack, for she placed one foot in front of it, and slid it backwards, behind her. Her dark curls bounced around her face as she shook her head.

"No. I can't tell you what's in it, but I can assure you I mean you no harm. _Look_." She motioned at her body, and then at her coat. "I have no gun. How can I shoot you without a gun?"

_She had a point._

Joe considered his options. He _could _just shoot her, and be done with it. But then, if she really _was _an American, then he'd be in for one hell of a time with the Major. He narrowed his dark eyes, and watched her for a moment longer. She only smiled her unnerving smile, and held her hands in the air.

"If you're going to shoot me, then shoot me. I'm _freezing_," she grumbled, rubbing her hands together. Even such a small move made him jump, and he pointed his gun in her direction once more.

"Come with me, then," he growled, his voice a deep rumble in the chill of the winter air. Obligingly, she picked up her bag, and nodded at him. "You go first," he instructed, touching the muzzle of his M-1 to the small of her back. She began forward immediately.

The two trudged across the open grounds. Unhindered in their progress. The Germans had retreated, and fallen back to a more manageable position, leaving behind their forgotten nurse. The Americans would not attack one of their own, and already, the men who had rushed across the open field to drive back the German lines were returning, their pace slow, their spirits high.

As they marched across the deep snow, sinking and sliding, slipping and turning, another man trotted alongside Joe, his helmet flashing in the sun as he observed his buddy's prisoner. "Er, Joe. I think you're a bit confused. We was goin' after the _Germans_, not their _women_."

Joe growled under his breath, and chanced a look at his friend. Bill Guarnere was grinning from ear to ear, and offering the woman marching in front of him a very appraising eye. "She's one of their nurses, all right, Bill? Found her hiding behind a rock. I think she _knows _somethin.'"

Bill's face turned from jovial to grim in a matter of moments. His black eyes flickered to the woman, and then to his friend, and without a spoken word, he raised his M-1 and aimed it at her as well. The woman didn't seem to mind, for she glanced over her shoulder and smiled briefly.

"_Scared_?" she questioned slowly, her eyes facing the American lines. "I don't blame you. _I _would be too." Her lips curled up into a dark smile, and Joe glanced at his buddy. Bill shook his head, a shiver running up his spine, before allowing his troubled gaze to resettle upon the woman once more.

There were a few odd looks from the returning GIs, and many of them offered to help guard her, throwing in their own lewd comments and innuendo every now and again. But the woman merely smiled, and continued moving forward, both hands resting comfortably on the back of her head.

As they reached the front lines, they were greeted by a red haired private, who, to say the least, looked quite surprised to find a woman in their midst. "Hey, look what the cat dragged in. Where'd you find _this _one?" He chuckled and elbowed Bill in the ribs. The man shrugged him off, and punched him amiably in the shoulder.

"Lay off, ya Mick. Why don't you go find Captain Winters. Make yourself useful like, you know?" He smacked him lightly on his helmet and with a low whistle, the red-haired youth jogged off, presumably to find Captain Winters.

Joe led the woman over to a sheltered area, and she noted, with annoyance, that the American lines weren't as well fortified as the German lines. Sure, they were both taking cover in their foxholes, stuck in those hell holes right across from one another. But she had thought the Americans would have more…well, _everything_. She saw no ammunition strewn around, the men that moved about had no winter clothing, and if they did, it was poor. She wondered how many had succumb to trench foot, or frostbite whilst they huddled in their foxholes, praying they didn't get hit.

There as no aid station that she could see, but then again, she hadn't gone very far into their main lines. Her eyes wandered the American position, landing upon soldiers that sat around here and there, some outside their foxholes, some inside. Many were rubbing their hands together, trying desperately to warm themselves up as they huddled in groups or on their own.

She was acutely reminded of her own predicament. Although she was considerably better off than many of these soldiers, her winter clothing was lacking as well. It wasn't as thick as most of the German clothing, and it certainly wasn't as warm. She placed her gloved hands on her arms, rubbing fruitlessly to increase the circulation in them and warm herself up.

It was pretty hard to stay _warm _when you were surrounded by nothing but _cold_.

Joe stood beside her, his M-1 resting on his hip and arm, his dark eyes darting across the line, and falling to land, every now and again, on the woman he was guarding. Before long, however, Bill joined the two. Rubbing his hands together, he cursed loudly.

"I hate this God damn cold. And this whole God damn forest. If I ever get home, I'm moving to a tropical island." The woman smiled lightly at his words, but hid her amusement well. She certainly did not blame him.

After another few minutes of aimless waiting, three men seemed to materialize out of the forest. At first, the woman hadn't known they were even men, so poor was the visibility. She had mistaken the for trees. But as they strode towards her, she knew, for certain, that these were no trees.

The two men beside her saluted half-heartedly, and the man in front of the three person group waved them off with a tired smile. "What's this all about?" he questioned wearily, his blue eyes flickering towards the woman. The man behind him stepped forward, dark haired, and dark eyed. He looked sleepy, and like he truly _didn't _want to be here.

But then again, who _did_?

"What do we have here?" The dark haired man bent down, his black eyes probing the woman for answers as he searched her face. She did not flinch, nor did she move. Her lips remained sealed shut, though they did turn up into a small, worn smile.

"You tell me," she murmured. "Because even _I'm _not so sure anymore." The man frowned darkly, and straightened up, offering the red-haired captain a look that seemed to convey his thoughts directly to him.

"All right," the young captain said, stepping forward. He stood before the woman, who, in turn, stood before him as she raised herself from the seat she had taken. "I'm Captain Richard Winters. This is Easy Company, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne. This is Captain Nixon," he motioned to the dark haired man briefly. "And sergeants Joe Toye and Bill Guarnere." He did not introduce the red-haired man behind him, for he seemed to have forgotten he was there. It was the man from earlier. But the woman didn't seem to notice or care.

"That's nice to know," she commented slowly, raising a brow in question. "Is there a _reason _you told me that? Because I can't do much with _names_." She crossed her arms over her chest, dark eyes boring into his bright blue ones.

He pursed his lips, and regarded her coolly. "Well, Babe here told us you were important, for _some _reason or another." He turned to Joe, who was watching the exchange in an unobtrusive fashion. "Joe? Care to explain?"

Joe nodded slowly, and shifted his weight, placing his gun in a comfortable position on his back. "Yes, sir. She said she was an American. I decided it'd be best to bring her back here. I wasn't sure what else to do. She's got something in that bag of hers. But she won't tell me what it is. I thought you'd like to check it, sir."

Winters nodded slowly, and his gaze returned to the woman, who still had the bag around her shoulders. "Classified," she said immediately. "And _not _for you to see." As he reached for the bag, she took a step back. "I told you 'no.' And I can assure you that this won't hurt _anyone _here. It's only meant to _help_."

She clenched her teeth as his hand reached out once more, aiming to grab the bag away from her. She quickly sank back onto the log she had occupied only moments before, and clutched the bag to her chest, curling over it protectively. "Back off," she growled, her voice was hoarse, and unwelcoming.

Winters raised a brow, and took a step back. Clearly, this woman would not give up the bag. "Toye?" He glanced at the man, who was staring down at the girl with a very confused face.

"Sir?"

"Get the bag, all right?" he glanced at the girl. "What is your name? Tell me, and we'll be sure nothing happens to you, all right? You're safe now, none of the Germans can get to you if you give up something important. We promise."

Joe reached for the bag, and the moment his hand was within her reach, the woman lashed out and bit it. Joe cried out, and yanked back his hand, glaring down at the woman and mumbling unhappy curses beneath his breath.

The woman spit into the snow, and it was red. Her eyes trailed along the men who surrounded her, each looking apprehensive. They didn't know what to do with her, what to say, how to approach the situation. Winters took another step back, and assessed the odds.

On one hand, he had a rogue _woman _wandering in the midst of the German lines. He didn't know if she was a nurse, or a spy, or…Whatever the _hell _she claimed to be. On the other hand, he also had to take in the fact that this woman was unruly, and clearly could _not _be reasoned with. He had no idea what to do. He _could _shoot her, and then take the bag, but that would accomplish nothing.

"Where is your CO?"

The words hit him like a ton of bricks, and he snapped back to reality as the woman's cold dark eyes glared up at him beneath long, black lashes. "Did you _hear _me? Where is your CO? I want to speak to him. You're the 101st?" He nodded, and she looked thoughtful for a brief second. "Then he's Colonel Sink, isn't he?"

Winters, and the rest of the Easy men all seemed to blink in unison, surprise etched across their features. "W-what? How on earth did you know that?" Winters' guard went up instantly, and he regarded the girl with wary blue eyes.

She smiled tightly, her lips drawn back over her teeth. "You'd be amazed at the things I know. Now go get him. I want to talk with him." Her eyes narrowed, and flashed dangerously. "_Now_."

---

"This had _better _be good, Nixon."

Captain Nixon leapt out of the jeep, and placed a hand on the door to steady himself on the uneven terrain. "It _is_, sir. Believe me," he assured the colonel, motioning with his hands in Winters' and the other men's general direction. "Follow me, sir."

The two men strode hastily across the snow packed earth, white powder crunching beneath their feet and coating their jackets. Nixon's dark eyes scanned ahead, while the Colonel simply focused on their main objective; Winters.

"Well, Winters?" he questioned slowly, as the two men approached the group. "What is this all…" His sentence trailed off as the woman that was sitting behind the Captain only moments before, stood, and snapped off a salute. Stunned, and quite confused, the colonel could only return her salute, and wait patiently for an explanation.

His eyes narrowed suddenly, and he gazed into the worn face of this mysterious girl. "Hum…" He hummed slowly, his breath materializing and then vanishing in the crisp, winter air. "Don't I _know _you?"

The woman smiled briefly, and nodded curtly, before she dipped her head in a mild form of respect. "Indeed you do, sir. We met before. A long time ago. Nearly three years, to be precise, sir."

Winter, Toye, Guarnere and Nixon blinked in confusion and surprise. Babe had long since been sent off with Spina for supplies. What the hell were they talking about? Winters took a step forward. "Sir…If you don't mind….Do you think you could explain this to us, sir? What's going on?"

Sink seemed transfixed by the woman, his eyes lost in thought as he observed her carefully. "Yes, yes…_Now _I remember. Your hair was much shorter then, and you weren't so…" he searched for the right word, and then seemed to find it. "Battle-worn."

Her eyes crinkled in amusement. "You mean, skinny? Yeah, I _was _fatter then," she mused, placing a hand to her cheek. "But I think we're all battle-worn…It's just to what extent."

Her words hung in the air as Sink crossed his arms over his chest. "All too true, lieutenant, all too true." Four sets of eyes snapped towards the colonel as he addressed the woman.

"_Lieutenant_, sir?" Nixon asked curiously, his breath hanging in the air. Sink nodded slowly, and offered them a drawn smile.

"Why, _yes_. And I can see why you said she wouldn't give up her bag, Captain Nixon. It's her _job _to guard it with her life." He reached forward, and plucked the sack from it's owner. The woman made no move to stop him, but seemed relieved to be rid of her burden.

"Yes, sir," she agreed hastily. Her gaze flickered to the four men as Sink glanced inside the bag. "Greetings and salutations, gents. My name is Lieutenant M.J. Heartford, K Company, 16th Special Ops Battalion, 1st Division. Nice to meet ya."

Winters' eyes snapped in her direction, and he gaped slightly. The newly appointed 'M.J.' could feel the gaze of each man in turn, as it landed upon her in disbelief and confusion. "I think if Colonel Sink would like to help me explain, we can do so back at your CP. Why don't we all have a nice little chat, eh?"

---

The six individuals hunched over a small, barely noticeable fire back at the CP. M.J. was certainly happy to have her hands warm for a change, and reveled in the feel of the warmth against her fingertips.

"Well, you guys sure are _lucky_. We can't have a single fire back on the German lines. Too much of a dead giveaway. We'd be shot _dead_."

The woman hadn't spoken a word on the ride back to the CP, but now, as they sat huddled in the small space, around the tiny fire, she seemed more eager to speak. "So, how have you lot been faring up here? Doesn't look too good to me. Sorry about all the shelling. There was nothing I could do about it." Her gaze landed on Sink, and he nodded in agreement.

"We know. You'd have compromised your mission. We couldn't risk it. Don't worry about it too much. We're faring as best we can. But it's to be expected. We're short on supplies." The woman dipped her head slowly, and her eyes flickered to the rest of the men.

"I suspected as much," she replied shortly, looking thoughtful. "Well, here's a bit of a rundown for you, gents. You know my name, you know my rank. But I bet ya'll don't know about the _company _I belong to." She smiled briefly, as though recalling fond memories of a time long past, and then sobered.

"So, the Special Ops Battalion is one of the few experimental battalions that Ike put into play. We're an elite force, sent over here to infiltrate the German opposition, see? We gather critical information, and pass it along the wires to the commanders. What they do with it is their decision. So basically, in layman's terms," She rubbed her hands together, and watched as her breath vanished into the air. "We're spies."

"It was my job, along with the few men and women in my battalion, to integrate ourselves into the German population. We lived among them for a while, studied their habits, their customs. We already knew their language, you see. And after a while, the villagers in the towns we were staying in, began to trust us, you know?"

She wrapped her coat tighter about herself, and shivered. "Geeze, it's _cold_…Anyway, Once we'd gained their trust, we slowly began to trickle into the German army, one by one. My fellow women and I enlisted as nurses, while the men enlisted as soldiers. However, we knew it'd be hard for us _nurses _to gain any type of _useful _intelligence, being stationed only in the hospital tents and _never _in the field."

Her dark eyes flickered to the canvas roof of the tent they sat under, and five sets of eyes followed them, before resettling on her. "So, I put some of my connections into play. My friends and I pulled some strings, and clawed and fought our way to the field, where we convinced them we'd be more of an asset _at _the front lines than _behind _them. If we were to be put with a battalion, a regiment, a division or a company, then we'd have a better chance of saving more lives. It took a while, but we finally convinced them to do it."

The bag she had clung to so desperately sat at her feet, and she picked it up, pulling out a few papers. "See this? _This _is what it's all about. I have the position of _every _German gun in Europe marked on this, courtesy of Private First Class Bobby J. Fields, known in Germany as Alfred Günter, who worked his way up to lieutenant colonel in the 106th Division." She folded the paper, and placed it back inside, before pulling out another. "Every regiment, company or battalion of the German opposition," she told them. "On _this _one."

She paused, and a grim smile flickered across her lips for a brief, unrecognizable moment. "The Germans are _losing _this war, gents. They have no significant reinforcements. Tanks, trucks, scout cars, wagons, artillery pieces. Nearly _gone_, decimated. The dreaded Panthers and Tigers? Nearly out of fuel. Once it's gone, that's it."

She fell silent, and her face seemed to grow thoughtful as her eyes clouded over with memories. "I've seen a lot of shit in this God-forsaken place. I was there when Market-Garden fell on it's ass, and I watched the _Americans _pull out. The Siegfried line, Metz, Hurtgen forest. We're in _Bastogne_, fellas. This is the big one. The one that will make or break this whole God damn operation. This'll be the _last _major offensive that Hitler can afford to launch. And unless he's _completely _crazy, he _won't _try it again. All it'll take is one great big push, and the Germans will fall back. The MLR," here she paused, and glanced at the men. "Their _main line of resistance_, is weak, _thin_. It'll fall back as soon as you make your move. Although…"

Her eyes narrowed, and she glanced over her shoulder. "There aren't enough men, nor is there enough ammunition, to push them back. It's gonna take a lot more than you have, colonel." Sink nodded in agreement, he knew _that _part without having to be told.

She continued on, her voice softer, but fairly optimistic. "When we began this campaign, the Germans still used horse drawn carts to haul their artillery, and even men, around. Now things look different. _Their _situation has changed. They aren't the great, undefeatable world power that they _thought _they were. They're short on _everything_. Food, ammunition, men, gasoline."

Her eyes swept over the smiles that lit up the faces of the young men. These citizen soldiers. There was nothing better than to know it would all be over soon. Their eyes were brightening, and they looked enthusiastic.

"From here on out, colonel, if we can push them back, they'll be on the defensive. It'll still be many days, if not _months_, before you can capture Berlin, or hell, Germany _itself_. But you _will _capture it. And it may not be you, _or _your division, _or_ anyone who is fighting here today. But I can _assure _you, that the first solider in Berlin will be _American_."

---

**Author's Note: **Did I sound like I knew what I was talking about? I do know some, although I am unsure as to the location of Bastogne, and if the forest they are in is called Bastogne, or the Ardennes. Or if they're two different places. Or if it's something else entirely. I am _so _confused right now, because I'm tired, and all my thoughts got jumbled up.

I made most of that stuff about K Company up, and I made the _entire _thing about the special ops battalion up as well. But K Company was _real_, and _did _exist. And it was a damn good company. So, that was the second chapter. Boring, I bet. But it'll get better. Review please.

In the next chapter, thing will heat up, and the battle will rage ever onward.


	3. Sharing A Foxhole

-1**Author's Note: **Chapter three. Lack of enthusiasm from me, since I lost my chain of focus…I am updating for Memorial Day. This is dedicated to al the soldiers, past and present, who fought and still fight to keep our country safe.

**Title: **Just One Word

**Rating: **T (PG-13) Yeah. For language, death and probably violence. But mostly language and death.

**Summary: **An unknown solider. Tossed aside, she was forgotten. It would have been nice to know some one cared…And even though she was surrounded by a company of men, she was so very alone…

**Disclaimer: **Since these are real people, I own nothing but my characters. This story is purely fictional, and I hope no one is offended by it. Thank you.

**Chapter 2: **Sharing A Foxhole

---

"From here on out, colonel, if we can push them back, they'll be on the defensive. It'll still be many days, if not _months_, before you can capture Berlin, or hell, Germany _itself_. But you _will _capture it. And it may not be you, _or _your division, _or_ anyone who is fighting here today. But I can _assure _you, that the first solider in Berlin will be _American_."

---

M.J sat alone, booted feet propping her small frame up as she hovered over the snow in a precariously awkward position. But it seemed that she was comfortable, for her eyes were shut, and her head was leaned up again the tree she sat beside.

It had only been a few short days since she had been captured by the Americans, and she certainly couldn't be happier.

For the first time in months, she had a chance to _really _rest. No more sleeping with one eye open, or jumping up at every little sound. She felt secure behind the American lines, she felt like she was _home_.

Footsteps alerted her to the approach of an unknown individual, but she didn't open her eyes. The crunch of the snow stopped short of her position, and a man's deep voice cut through the quiet of her tranquil morning.

"Lieutenant?"

It was Joe Toye. M.J., though a bit miffed at him at first for trying to take her bag, and pointing a gun at her back (though she hadn't really cared, she'd been so relieved to get out of there), had completely forgiven any offense he may have caused her. He was a good man. Quiet, but good. He never really said too much, and for that, she was grateful. It gave her more time to think, and enjoy his silent company.

"I already told you, Joe. You can call me M.J. I really don't mind. In fact, I prefer it." She cracked open one eye, and watched as he kneeled down beside her, his eyes scanning the tree line. He looked a bit troubled, so she shifted her legs, and leaned forward a bit. "Penny for your thoughts, Joe?"

His dark eyes flashed towards her, and he frowned slowly, thoughtfully. "I've been thinking about what you told us the other day," he began, his voice a bit muffled by the sharp wind that had begun to pick up and bite at their exposed faces. "You know, about bein' behind the German lines. And, well, how the _hell _did you survive that long without getting caught?"

M.J. snorted softly, and folded her arms across her knees, pulling out her canteen, which by now, had nearly frozen solid, to take a drink. Finding that she couldn't without warming it up a bit, she stuck it in her jacket, wincing as the icy metal penetrated through her warm clothes.

"It's a matter of secrecy and stealth. I had to treat it as a delicate situation. If you act like them, talk like them, walk like them, and basically all but _become _one of them, then they never ask any questions. Do you honestly think they'd ever stop and wonder why I pushed so hard to get on the front lines? Do you think they'd suspect a _woman _of treachery, when she was _in_ their army, and helping to save their _soldiers_? Sure, information on the front was a bit lax, and it was hard to scrounge around for some intelligence, but I did it anyway."

She paused and took a deep breath, watching as it appeared and vanished before her eyes.

"Those Field Marshals, they get all the good stuff. I stayed close to them when I got the chance, said I'd be right there if they ever got hit, and duplicated their maps, papers, and just about _every _other document I could get my hands on. I became their runner, their 'go-to' person while I was with them. And I did everything they didn't want to do themselves. Then they transferred me to that shitty battalion, and it became hell on earth from then on out. 'Cept it was colder than all get out…"

She shrugged, and pulled her canteen out, taking a sip of water and placing it back on her belt. Her dark eyes were nearly hidden beneath her cap and helmet, and her curly hair was stuffed into her hat.

"You know, they aren't as smart as everyone thinks they are. They're fightin'…Well, that's a whole other story. Those SS…They're like a bat outta hell when they get the Americans in their sights. You know the Ost Battalion, them Soviets? Well, they'd just as soon surrender than fight. Of course, most of their COs will shoot them in the back if they even _think _about droppin' their weapon. And a lot of the German soldiers would rather just give up and get out of this hell hole when they get the chance, especially when they're gettin' shot at. But most of them are real proud, and for good reason. They're one of the best armies I ever saw, though their leader is crazy as hell. I wouldn't want to ever meet _him _face to face…"

She laughed bitterly, and Joe raised his eyebrows. He cracked a small smile, and balanced his M-1 on his knee. "So, you're tellin' me that you spent _all _that time in the German army, and never met _Hitler_? You must be heartbroken." He grinned wickedly, and M.J. offering him a sardonic smile.

"Yeah, _heartbroken_," she joked, before frowning slowly. "I'm just glad I got out of there. There's some good men in the German army, nice as can be. But there are some real…_Asses _in it too. I hated dealin' with them. Made life miserable." Joe nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, you can't always serve with a paratrooper. Be nice if you could, though. Then hell wouldn't seem so bad." His dark eyes scanned the lines, and then the treetops one last time. "Least the damn trees aren't frickin' explodin' right now."

M.J. couldn't agree more. She'd seen first hand what those shells did to men. Right now, she was just happy there was a _lull _in the shelling. It was hard to form a coherent thought anyway, without a tree falling to pieces right by your head and sending trees limbs through your arm.

"Yeah." Her dark brows drew together, and she stood, stretching her legs and shaking the snow from her pants. "Come on. Let's go get somethin' to eat. Looks like they're dishin' out some food. You hungry?"

Joe nodded and stood as well, brushing off his pants just as the woman beside him had. "Sure am," he commented, as the two began the short trek to the food line. There were already a few men lined up, cold, metal cans held in their hands as they waited anxiously for their food.

M.J. allowed the others to trot towards the line first, taking their place at the front, and the middle. She waited until everyone had gotten their place in line, and then slowly dragged her feet towards the end. She hadn't noticed Joe standing beside her, waiting along with her as she watched everyone else line up. She figured he'd want to be at the front.

"Hey, what're ya doin' back here with _me_? Though you'd wanna be first in line." She glanced over at him, arms wrapped around her torso. He chuckled, his breath materializing and then vanishing into the air.

"Nah, it doesn't matter to me, really. A line's a line. It's not gonna get any shorter if I stand in the _middle _of it. Besides, you looked lonely. Though you could use the company." He shrugged, and slung his rifle over his shoulder, imitating his friend and wrapping his arms around himself to keep warm.

M.J. shook her head. "You're an odd fella, Joe. A real odd fella."

---

"They have their guns set up here, here and here."

M.J.'s fingers ran across the map slowly, skillfully pointing out every gun emplacement she could remember. She was pretty sure she had all of them, and marked each with a small, red 'X.'

Nixon raised his dark brows, frowning thoughtfully. "That's an awful lot of fire power for one town. They must wanna keep Foy pretty badly, eh?" He folded up the map, carefully remembering each little red 'X,' just in case something were to happen to said piece of paper.

M.J. shook her head, curls bouncing around her face. She had discarded her helmet earlier to an icy log-chair, but her hat stayed firmly on her head, her hair falling out of it in tiny rivulets of brown and black. "They have a lot of guns, Nix. But that doesn't mean they have the ammo to use 'em. They're pretty short on a lot of things. At first they weren't, and figured they'd have pushed ya'll out before they had to settle into a place like this. But they used up their resources pretty quick. Now they're payin' for it. They're short on food and ammo, and most importantly, men." 

Winters listened to the new intelligence officer carefully, blue eyes flickered from her face, to the second map she had laid out beneath the first. M.J. continued. "Now, I'm not sayin' this'll be easy. They still have tanks, guns and men, yeah. Of course. I mean, it'd be stupid not to. They just don't have as much as the Americans. It'll be hard to take Foy, but I'm confident you'll take it, regardless."

Dick folded his arms across his chest. He knew that he would be ordered to take Foy fairly soon, so he had requested M.J.'s intelligence. Sink had seen fit to assign her to Easy, since, not only had _they _brought her in, but they would most likely be making the main assault on Foy. He wanted them to be _ready_.

Winters frowned slowly. He would probably lose a lot of good men in the assault, he knew. It was inevitable. He wasn't keen on the idea at all, but Easy had been assigned this mission, and he'd have to follow through. Having a bit of a leg up with the intelligence would certainly give them an edge. Although having Dike lead the attack didn't sit too well with him. He definitely had his doubts about that lieutenant, but he just couldn't replace him. He didn't have a man to do it.

"Well, major?" M.J.'s voice cut through his thoughts, breaking him out of his grim musings. "What do you think?"

Winters sighed, folding up the map in front of the woman, and handing it back to her. "I think this is going to be one heck of an operation. But we'll get it done. You certainly helped a lot. Thank you, lieutenant."

M.J. smiled half-heartedly. She knew what was going on in Dick's head, and she understood. She had met quite a few German officers who were exactly the same way. They cared for their men, and for their men's well being. But some, if not _all_, of the SS officers were the exact opposite. They'd push their men into hell without a second thought for their welfare. _Those _were the men she had despised the most.

"Yeah." She raised a hand to salute, and dismiss herself, but then paused. "Major, if I could ask something…" His glance in her direction urged her to speak. "If possible…With this assault…Could you instruct your men…to maybe take as many prisoners as possible? I mean, I know we're in a war, and I know everyone thinks the Germans are _bad _but…" She paused again, and looked unsure. "A lot of them are just doing their job. They're really good people. And I just don't want to see anymore good people die."

Dick's eyes softened momentarily, and he offered her a tight smile. "I'll see what I can do, lieutenant. I'll see what I can do."

M.J.'s smile brightened only minimally, and she snapped off a salute, turning to go when the major returned it and dismissed her from the protection of their improvised tent.

---

Joe sat in his foxhole, his back against the cold, hard earth that cradled his form like a shelter of dirt and ice. He sighed quietly, and hugged his M-1 closer to him, as though it might provide some much needed warmth.

He was slightly startled when another person slid down in the foxhole with him, dark eyes hidden beneath a helmet and cap. The solider offered him a small smile, and leaned back against the opposite side of his foxhole, pulling off her helmet and placing it in her lap.

"When are you gonna get yourself a weapon, lieutenant?"

M.J. grinned cheekily, and pulled a pistol from her belt. A _German _pistol. A luger. "Already got me one. It's as good as I'm gonna get. Besides, you guys don't have enough weapons for me." She frowned. "At least, that's what I'm _told_."

Joe shook his head. "Bullshit, we don't. Stay here." He placed his helmet on his head and leapt out of the foxhole, rifle in hand. M.J. watched him go from the rim of the hole, before settling back down on the other side.

Before long, a pile of dirt streamed form the opposite side of the foxhole, and Bill Guarnere slid in. "Hey," he commented. "You ain't Joe. What'd ya do, steal his foxhole?" He was grinning broadly as he peeked over the edge, looking about for his missing friend.

"Nah, I commandeered it. It's a nautical term. And then I made him pack up his things and move into another one. Because I'm just _that _nice." She rolled her eyes and smiled playfully.

Bill chuckled and shook his head. "You got spunk, girl. I like that. You got a fella at home waitin' on ya?" He looked interested, and it was M.J.'s turn to chuckle.

"Nah, not me. I'm a lone wolf, ya know." She laughed. "Live alone, die alone, yeah." Wild Bill couldn't help but laugh at her obvious attempt at a joke, before she went on.

"But seriously. I don't have anyone waitin' for me back home. Just my ma and my little sister. She's only nine." She shrugged. "My ma didn't think it was a good idea to join the army. And if I did, she wanted me to be a nurse back at _home_. So, naturally, I joined the most dangerous outfit I could find and made _sure _they sent me overseas. Guess I'm a rebel." She shook her head, and hugged her helmet closer to her body.

Bill leaned back against the foxhole. "Hell of a story, kid. Hell of a story. What about your ma? Don't you worry about her? Don't you think she worries about you? It sure must be tough on her and your sister." His thoughts ventured to his own mother, and how she was feeling back at home. He wished he could see her again, and his brothers as well. He sure did miss 'em.

M.J. shook her head. "No. She doesn't worry about me. She thinks I'm stationed in New York, at those shipyards, ya know? Directing transport ships, and helping with the wounded. She thinks I'm a God damn nurse _over there_. The army makes sure to send her letters, telling her how busy I am, and that I never have time to write. They always reply to every letter _she _sends me. I wonder if she's even still sendin' 'em."

Bill patted her shoulders, his dark eyes softening for a brief moment, before he leaned up against the wall once more. "Well, no use dwellin' on the sad stuff in life. How about the here and now?" He seemed to think a moment. "Wait, that's not much of an improvement."

M.J. laughed heartily, before a head poked itself over the side of the foxhole, and Joe slid in, squishing the two occupants back against their corners. "Jesus, Joe. You _tryin' _to squish us to death here?" Bill complained loudly, while M.J. wiggled over to give them some room, making herself as small as possible.

Joe shook his head. "If your ass gets any fatter, none of us will be able to sit in the foxhole." He dodged a half-hearted right hook from his friend.

"Whatcha got there, Joe? A present for me?" M.J.'s eyes brightened when she saw the extra M-1 the quiet solider carried in his left hand. He grinned, and handed it over.

"Yep, there ya go, M.J. Had to go through hell to get that, but I got it. You better _appreciate _it." He watched as the woman took the rifle from his hand, and held it up to look at it. It was a regulation M-1, normal, and nothing fancy. But she seemed happy to have it, and tucked it at her side as the three of them squeezed into a foxhole big enough for only two and a half.

"Well, thanks, Joe. Best present I ever got. Least now I can feel a bit more comfortable walkin' around this place." Bill grinned, and nodded, offering her a playful wink.

"Yep. And now you can beat someone over the head with it when they try to ask ya for a date. Hey Joe, ya know, M.J. ain't got a fella back home or nothin'. I bet ya she'd like to go on a date with you."

Joe gave him a sardonic frown, and punched him in the arm. "Yeah, sure. And where would I take her? Through the woods? It all looks the _same_. Some date that'd be. And then, afterwards, we can go for a walk out to the OP, and maybe even kill a few Krauts."

Bill laughed. "_Right_? Sure sounds like a hell of a time to me." He nudged M.J. in the ribs, and she smiled weakly.

"Yeah. I'm right here, though. You coulda waited to talk about me after I _left_." She crossed her arms over her helmet, her M-1 leaning against her shoulder. "Shoot, if I _ever _leave. It's warmer down here than up there. Damn snow…"

Joe only chuckled softly, a red tint crossing his cheeks, while Bill laughed outright. "You go that right, kid. It sure is. And I'm with you on that snow thing. It's like hell, only colder."

M.J. frowned, and shivered, curling in on herself in agreement. "It sure is. Damn, wish we could have a fire or somethin'. I feel like I'm back in the German lines. Except the company here is much, much better, I must say." She winked playfully, and Bill grinned, nudging Joe.

"Ah, I'd say that's the best compliment the two of us have ever gotten. The men around here ain't much for compliments." He couldn't help but laugh at his own humor, an M.J. and Joe joined in, one lightly, the other quietly.

Bill's eyes lit up mischievously, and he flashed his teeth. "Hey, M.J. If Joe don't wanna be your fella, then there's always me. I mean, I'm just as good as anyone else, if not better." He laughed heavily. "And I'm _much _better lookin' than Joe here." His friend punched him lightly in the arm, while M.J. only laughed. 

"I'll keep _both _of ya in mind, Bill," she told him to soothe his ruffled feathers as he smacked Joe on the back of the head. "We'll see how this all turns out. But sure, I'll keep ya'll in mind."

The three of them talked long into the night, before Bill volunteered to keep the first watch, and M.J. and Joe fell asleep, each using the other's shoulder as a pillow.

Bill couldn't help but chuckle.

---

**Author's Note: **Not quite as long. But filled with relevant information. Hm. I have been asked about romance. Yes, I do foresee something of the like in the near future. But be patient, m'dears. See if you can guess the pairings from this chapter, duckies. Hehe, as obvious as a chimpanzee in a banana suit in the middle of an office building in Manhattan. But then again…Some people might take that's as normal. O.o

**Next Chapter: **More fun talking, and perhaps some fighting as well. Joe and Bill learn more about M.J. and she, in turn, learns about them. Shells explode, and things take a turn for the worse.


	4. Explosions And Promises

-1**Author's Note: **Chapter four! Well, actually it's number three, but it's the fourth chapter type thing that I've put up…You know, I just confused myself.

**Title: **Just One Word

**Rating: **T (PG-13) Yeah. For language, death and probably violence. But mostly language and death.

**Summary: **An unknown solider. Tossed aside, she was forgotten. It would have been nice to know some one cared…And even though she was surrounded by a company of men, she was so very alone…

**Disclaimer: **Since these are real people, I own nothing but my characters. This story is purely fictional, and I hope no one is offended by it. Thank you.

My reflection,  
In the window when I ride,  
Could not save us,  
But I swear to God I tried.  
Take a picture,  
Write a letter to my love.  
I was almost honest.  
But I was almost honest.

...'Cause I was almost honest…

- Josh Kelley, _Almost Honest_

**Chapter 3: **Explosions And Promises

"Take Cover!"

_Shit_.

Her feet just wouldn't move fast enough. Scrambling desperately, she felt them slide out from beneath her once more. "_Shit_!" Her arms stretched in vain towards a branch that was too small and too far away to save her. She scrabbled for purchase in the snow, and watched, in awe and depressed fear, as another mortar exploded only yards away from her.

The blast sent her body backwards, and she landed on her back, clutching at her side. A small fragment of the shell had hit her. Desperately, she picked herself up off the ground, stumbling and falling as she tried to regain her feet.

The next moment, a strong pair of hands had wrapped themselves around her collar, and dragged her backwards. She kicked, trying to stand on her own, and twisting to see her rescuer. "Let _go_, damn it! I can walk on my own!" Instantly, her rescuer responded by sprinting faster, pulling her down into the safety of a foxhole.

"Yeah, you were doing a great job of that out there by _yourself_!"

Blinking as another mortar landed about 50 yards away, the woman crouched down in the foxhole, staring into the dark eyes of the redheaded man she had met when she first came here. The one who had gone to get Winters.

Another mortar exploded close by.

"Damn!" he cursed, pulling her down further into the foxhole, and covering her body with his own. Squirming, she pushed him off, but did not sit up. She wasn't _stupid_. The red-head gave her a look that was a mix between anger and annoyance.

"Look, I'm _not _gonna break! Worry about your _own _hide, not mine!" she growled as loud as she could. Covering their ears as another shell exploded nearby, the two soldiers crouched low in Heffron's foxhole, hoping desperately that it would be enough to save them from a fatal hit.

As they crouched in the bottom of that hole, M.J. glanced up overhead, watching in quiet awe as the shells exploded in the treetops, sending fragments of trees in every direction. "Wow…"she breathed, before the tree beside their foxhole burst apart. "_Shit_!"

She leapt on Heffron, and pushed him to the ground, right before the tree slammed on top of them, trapping the two in the foxhole. "Damn, that _hurt_…" Babe mumbled from beneath her. She moved as best she could, pinned down by the tree's many branches.

"Yeah."

A few moments later, it was silent. "Looks like the shells stopped. Now, how're we gonna get outta here?" The woman asked her companion quietly. Babe shrugged, and stuck a hand up through the foliage.

"Help! Anyone there? Help!"

M.J. Sighed heavily. "Well, that'll work, I suppose."

"Stay in your foxholes! Stay in your foxholes!" Sergeant Lipton ran by, and Babe called out to him. Lipton, hearing his calls, hurried to their aid.

"Hehe, guess I overdid the cover on my foxhole, eh, Sarge?" he asked, as both he and M.J. were pulled out of the hole by the men. M.J. snorted, before the low, tell-tale sound of incoming mortars broke up their moment of hilarity. She snorted again as she dove for cover, following Lipton into his own foxhole.

Hilarity, _indeed_.

Lipton huddled near the side of his foxhole, and M.J. huddled beside him. She could hear the mortars exploding here and there, in the treetops, on the ground. She wrapped her arms around her body, but pulled her hand back when a sharp pain in her side caused her to jump.

Glancing at her glove, she wondered, briefly why it was covered in blood. She gently touched her ribs once more, only to find a small fragment sticking out of her uniform, embedded only an inch beneath the skin. Hissing, she withdrew her hand, and huddled near the wall of Lipton's foxhole.

She had _forgotten _she was hit. And throwing herself on top of Heffron didn't _improve _the situation.

The explosions continued for a few more moments, before silence reigned once more. She glanced over at Lipton, who was slowly raising himself out of the foxhole. Patting him on the back, she nodded. "I think we should be sure no one's hurt. Come on."

Lipton agreed, and followed M.J. as she heaved herself out of the hole, briefly touching her wound in assurance that she had done no damage to the already torn skin. "Lieutenant," she heard the voice behind her as Lipton touched her shoulder. "You're wounded. Do you need a medic?"

M.J. waved him off. "Not now I don't. I'm sure there are others who need one more than me. Now _hurry_." Lipton nodded, looking a bit unsure, but followed her anyway.

M.J. could hear voices up ahead. They sounded worried, punctuated with a cry of distress every couple of minutes. She quickened her pace, Lipton following right along behind her. As she came to the small clearing that looked like it'd be hit with several shells, she noticed that both Joe and Bill were sitting on the ground.

Bill was clutching his leg. It looked like a small piece of shrapnel had embedded itself in it, just as it had with her side. And Joe, too, clutched his leg. There didn't seem to be too much wrong. Hurrying over, she knelt beside Doc Roe. "What's the damage?" she questioned hurriedly, before pulling out the aid kit attached to her belt and handing it to him. He offered her a grateful look, before nodding and answering her question.

"Nothin' much, ma'am. A bit of shrapnel hit their legs, but they'll be up and walkin' in no time flat. There's not much damage either. It's a good thing. Don't worry." He patted her on the shoulder, before his eyes strayed to her side, where a once small splotch of red, had evolved into a very large crimson circle.

"Looks like you got hit too. Want me to take a look at it?" He motioned towards her ribs, and she nodded, slowly.

"Yeah. It's nothin' much. Just a small piece of shrapnel. Can you pull it out and bandage it up?" she watched as he tore a small hole in her jacket and uniform, expertly working his way down to the lodged piece of shrapnel and pulling it out. He cast her a knowing look, and nodded.

"Sure can." He pulled out a packet of Sulfa powder, and sifted it onto the wound. Wincing slightly, she allowed him to tie the bandage around her torso, pulling it tight to apply pressure to the wound. "All right. Try not to move around _too _much. Let it heal up a bit, and when I can, I'll get some stitches on it. Okay, lieutenant?"

M.J. dipped her head gently, before sitting up against a tree, allowing her gaze to flicker from Bill to Joe. Both had their wounds treated already, and looked no worse for the wear. Bill was even venturing to stand up. "Feelin' okay there, Bill?" she questioned from her spot beneath the tree. He only nodded, offering her a thumbs up and a small, grimacing smile

George Luz shuffled over to the gathering, an odd look on his face. M.J. watched as Lipton spoke with him, questioning him on something she could not hear nor understand. As long as it didn't concern the _mildly _wounded being _evacuated_, she wasn't too interested. George nodded slowly, pointed to Buck Compton, and then wandered over to join her beneath the tree.

"What happened to _you_, lieutenant?" he asked, gesturing to her bandage. M.J. let her gloved hand touch the soft white cotton, before allowing her gaze to fall upon Joe and Bill.

"Nothing much, George. Shrapnel wounds, that's all. We'll _all _be fine. What about you? Looks like you've just seen a ghost. You all right?" Her eyes softened momentarily as they met his own, and he smiled as he nodded, slowly, thoughtfully.

"Yeah, I'm all right, lieutenant. Thanks for asking."

Only a few hours after that, M.J., Bill and Joe were sent back to their foxhole.

---

"No shit? He really did that? Didn't think Heffron was that much of a gentleman."

M.J. heaved a long suffering sigh, and rolled her eyes. "Of _course _he is. Not like you Mick's. And besides, I returned the favor a few seconds after that, you know, before the _tree _fell on us."

Joe chuckled and shook his head. "A _tree _fell on you? You seem to have all the fun, don't you, lieutenant?" Joe held his M-1 tightly in his arms, as though he was afraid he might lose it again.

M.J. kicked his foot. "I told you already, you don't need to call me lieutenant, all right, Joe?" Bill patted his friend on the arm.

"Yeah, we have privileges. Like not usin' them _ranks _and _titles _all the damn time, Joe. Isn't that right, beautiful?" He slung an arm around M.J. offering her a charming smile. The tiny woman scowled, and picked his arm off of her shoulders.

"Don't push it, Bill," she growled.

Laughing, he patted her helmet, while Joe looked on quietly. "I like em' feisty," he commented thoughtfully, before being slugged lightly on both arms, from _both _of his friends. "_What_?"

M.J. shook her head, and then lifted it to gaze over the rim of the foxhole. "You know, we'll be taking _Foy _in a couple of days, right?" she mentioned casually, her eyes never leaving the German occupied town.

Bill cursed, while Joe shook his head. "Not _you_, M.J. But _we _will. There's no way Winters would let you in on that attack, and you know that. You'll be staying here, safe and sound."

The young woman snorted softly, and pulled her M-1 onto her lap. "Like _hell _I will. This place isn't any safer than the rest of Europe. I _gave _Winters the information he needed to take Foy. He _better _let me in on that attack, or he'll be fighting his _own _battle back _here_. With _me_." She crossed her arms, while Bill only laughed.

"She has ya there, Joe. When a woman _wants _somethin', she usually _gets _it. I doubt Winters would wanna deal with her _here, _when he has to deal with the attack out _there_. She's too much of a firecracker. He'd burn his hands for sure."

Joe regarded M.J. carefully, but said nothing. He didn't like the idea of her following the attack into the town. He didn't want her anywhere near this place. He wanted her to go home. To be _safe_. But no matter how much he wanted it, he knew it could never happen.

"Right…_Burn_."

---

M.J. was jolted awake by the loud explosion that nearly sent her flying head over heels out of the foxhole. Joe and Bill bolted upright as well, eyes wild s they glanced around for the source of the explosion.

M.J. clutched her helmet to her head. "Shit! _Incoming_!"

It was another attack, another God damn _shelling_! M.J. clutched her rifle and slouched in the hole, throwing her arms over her head as the explosions continued to rock the ground. Joe grabbed her shoulder, as though to assure himself that she was still there, and huddled next to her, covering both of them with his arms. Bill followed suit.

The shelling didn't last long, and in no time, it had quieted down. M.J. shifted slightly beneath Joe's arm, before gently lifting it off of her. "Thanks," she muttered softly, receiving a small smile and a nod of acknowledgement from her friend.

Bill shook his head, debris and dirt falling from his shoulders as he hefted himself out of the hole. "I'll be right back, you two _stay here_. I'm gonna go see if anyone was hurt. All right?"

"Yeah," Joe nodded slowly, M.J. echoing his sentiments when he said; "Be careful, Bill."

M.J. watched him disappear from the cover of the foxhole, before she turned to her remaining companion. "You know, you _don't _have to do that."

Joe looked confused as he swung his gaze over to meet hers. "Do _what_?" he questioned automatically, not noticing how close the two were as they sat beside one another. M.J. sighed heavily, and rolled her eyes.

"You _know_," she clarified, waving her hands about. "Trying to protect me. I'm _not _gonna break, and I'm certainly not afraid to die. At least I know that I made a difference, even if I'm _dead_. I _chose _to do this. Why are you so _worried _about me when _I'm _not even worried about me? I mean, you hardly even _know _me, Joe. What are you so afraid of?"

Joe remained silent as he listened to her speak, his dark eyes never leaving her own. "I don't _know_," he said finally, sounding a bit lost. "I don't know why, but I just…The thought of you dying…I don't want you to _ever _get hurt." He gestured to her side, where the large white bandage kept her wound bound tightly. Roe had stitched it up a few hours after the attack.

"_That_…It feels like it's _my _fault. I wasn't there to stop it from happening. I couldn't do anything to help you. I _don't like _that feeling." He fell silent as M.J. mulled over his words, her eyes and face thoughtful as she peered at him from beneath her dark lashes.

"So…what _are _you afraid of then, Joe?"

Joe looked a bit surprised by the second asking of the question, and said nothing at first, regarding the ground a though it had become an object of great interest. "I guess…" He sounded like he didn't want to continue. M.J. sighed, and placed a hand on his own. He glanced at it, and then at her. "I _don't _want to lose you."

The diminutive woman looked startled, before her eyes softened. "Aw, don't worry about it, Joe. You're stuck with me, for _life_. I promise, I won't ever leave ya. You _or _Bill. All right?"

This seemed to put his mind at ease, for he seemed to relax almost instantly, leaning back against the wall. For a moment, it was quiet, the silence punctuated only by the distant calls of 'Medic!' that were shouted into the air. M.J. observed Joe for a long while, before she leaned in, and pecked him on the cheek.

"Don't worry about it."

When Bill came back, he found both of them sitting side by side, exactly how he had left them. "Hey, Bill?" As he slid into the foxhole, he turned his head to glance at M.J. curious as to what she wanted to say.

"Yeah?"

"Don't worry about a thing. Neither of us plans on getting killed anytime soon." Confused, Bill offered the small woman a very puzzle looked. Smiling, she shook her head.

"Just don't worry about it."

---

**Author's Note: **(Slaps Face) This chapter ending sucked….Darnit. Well, I changed things. Yeah, that isn't what really happened, but this story is different, and different things will happen in it. Yeah. Read and review, please! I love to get feedback, good or bad, from everyone! Please review! Thanks!

**Next Chapter: **The Assault on Foy! And the aftermath…


	5. Intelligence

-1**Author's Note: **Chapter four, whoo! I am so tired right now…Sorry if some of this doesn't make sense. My eyes are going a bit fuzzy…

**Title: **Just One Word

**Rating: **T (PG-13) Yeah. For language, death and probably violence. But mostly language and death.

**Summary: **An unknown solider. Tossed aside, she was forgotten. It would have been nice to know some one cared…And even though she was surrounded by a company of men, she was so very alone…

**Disclaimer: **Since these are real people, I own nothing but my characters. This story is purely fictional, and I hope no one is offended by it. Thank you.

(Blah Blah.) - **German**

"Blah Blah." - **English**

**Chapter 4: **Intelligence

He could feel her gaze boring holes into his helmet.

"I'm sorry, lieutenant, but Colonel Sink has ordered me to keep you here. Your intelligence and knowledge of the enemy position is far too valuable to send you off on an attack. You'll just have to sit back and wait…" He sighed heavily. "Like the rest of us." The last sentence was uttered so quietly, that the diminutive lieutenant had to strain to catch it.

"Sir," her voice was crisp and clear as she stood, holding out her hands as she took a thoughtful step forward. "I must protest this ludicrous order. I provided the information, and I want to participate in the assault. I think I have a right to, sir." Her hands flew to her hips, balled up in small fists as she stared up at her new commander.

Winters shook his head, placing one hand against his temple. He could already feel the headache coming on. It seemed that every time he had been forced to deal with the fiery Special Ops officer, his head began throbbing. He liked to call them 'Intelligence Headaches.' Nixon, to say the least, found this all to be quite amusing.

Speaking of Nixon…

The raven haired captain stood up, holding up his hands in defeat as he tried in vain to placate the riled up lieutenant. "Lieutenant Heartford, we would like nothing more than to send you in with the assault team, but our hands are tied. Colonel Sink is adamant about this. He won't have you participating in this operation. You're just too valuable."

The petite woman growled, her slightly smudged face standing out as a stark contrast against the white of the Bois Jacques. She looked far more unhappy now than she had when they brought her in, and fruitlessly tried to force her to give up her information. Her dark eyes were narrowed into tiny slits, brown hair falling down in tiny rivulets around her heart-shaped face. "Fine then, sir," she ground out, spitting out the last word with more venom than a rattlesnake. "If that's what you want, then I will wait in my _God damn _foxhole for your assault team to come back. Thank you, _sir_." She snapped off an automatic salute, and without waiting to be dismissed, turned on her heel and marched off.

Nixon shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Shifting slightly, he turned to glance at his friend. Richard did not look pleased, and in fact, he looked upset. "I know she wants to be there when we take Foy, but we just can't chance it. See, Nix, this is why the Paratroopers are all men. But you know, sometimes I wonder…If they'd made a battalion of female Paratroopers, don't you think the Krauts would be running scared by now?" He offered his buddy a sly grin, and shook his head.

Nixon couldn't help but laugh. "Yup, Dick, I think you're right. After all, 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.'" He sighed and sat down on his improvised chair, sticking both of his hands back in his pockets.

Winters imitated him, and leaned back against the side of their tent. "You're absolutely right, Nix. Absolutely right."

---

M.J. curled her arms around her torso.

The last shelling had brought terrible news, she reflected grimly. Skip Muck and Alex Penkala had both taken a direct hit. There wasn't much left of them after that. George had told her everything after she sought him out, and asked for an explanation. Donald Malarkey, a man whom she had little contact with in her short time among the men of Easy Company, was taking it pretty hard.

There was nothing she could do for him, but offer a few words that were meant to comfort. He had nodded, grateful, it seemed, for her concern, and then she had lost his gaze, and his eyes slipped down to the cross he held tightly in his gloved hand. She knew it had belonged to one of his friends.

M.J. had excused herself after that, and opted to be alone for a while.

She walked through the trees, knowing full well how dangerous this was. But then, why should it matter? No, she certainly wasn't suicidal, nor was she stupid. She just felt as though she needed to get away for a while, to be on her own. Her feet crunched in the soft snow, and she huddled in on herself, preserving her warmth as she had so many days ago in Foy.

She wondered how the attack was going now. When she left Winters, both he and Nix were preparing to head to the front lines. Although the attack wouldn't take place for another half hour, she knew that Richard had a lot on his mind. She knew he had no confidence in Lieutenant Dike, a man whom she found to be unpleasant, to say the least.

She had met him, of course, and gotten the impression that this entire fiasco was nothing but a hindrance to the man. He seemed to always want to be on the go, out of harm's way, and away form the men. Joe had told her that he was a flake, worthless, and not worth the effort of dealing with.

After her meeting with him, and a few choice words, M.J. couldn't agree more.

So, Winters and Nixon were most likely standing near the MLR, shouting orders, preparing for the assault, and here she was, walking through the woods with no purpose but to observe. She studied the woods behind her for a moment, eyes searching for something she could not see, until the sounds of shouting and gunfire reached her ears.

She merely nodded, and continued on.

It did not take long before she began to feel a strange sense of déjà vu. As though she had been in this part of the Bois Jacques before. Blinking, she hugged her arms closer to her body, rubbing her hands together as she tried to conserve energy and heart.

The young lieutenant swore she could hear something up ahead. Voices, footsteps. _Something _was out there, but she couldn't figure out what it was. She strained her eyes and ears, desperate to solve this oddly daunting mystery. Of course, she had slung her rifle over her shoulder, and lifted it to rest beneath her arm, aimed carefully at the direction of the disturbance.

Shifting silently, or as silently as one could whilst standing atop noisy snow, she positioned herself behind a tree, the best cover she could possibly even hope to find in a forest. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she thought that she could make out a shape off in the distance. _What the hell…_

She flipped off the safety, and lifted her M-1 to eye-level, closing only one, narrowed eye to take aim. The shape was getting closer, and whether it be friend or foe, she wasn't taking any chances. As it moved within range, she lifted herself up, standing beside the tree she had taken cover behind.

"Halt."

Her cool, crisp warning rang heavily in the air, and the figure stopped, swiveling side to side as it tried to determine her location. "Drop your weapons, and I won't shoot you." Then, rethinking her language choice, she switched to German.

"(Drop your weapons, or I will shoot. Now.)"

There was a distinct crunching sound, and the shape held up two burly arms, wrapped in a thick coat. Moving closer, studying her prisoner carefully, M.J. reached his side, and was startled to find that she had seen this man before. Eyes widening, she nearly dropped her rifle, as the man looked on, mouth agape.

"C-Christof?"

---

M.J. walked beside the man, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"(You don't say? I'd have thought they'd have left Foy altogether. I suppose that commander was more persistent than I thought. I hope he wasn't killed.)" Her rifle was slung carelessly over her shoulder, while the man merely nodded.

"(Yes, the commander was perseverant. But I don't think he was killed. After all, many of the ground troops withdrew during the attack. I am almost sure he was with them. I'd bet my socks on it.)"

M.J. smiled. "(I'll take that bet. I could use another pair of socks. My feet are freezing.)" Christof could only laugh, his blue eyes dancing with mirth as she led him back to the CP. "(Uh, Christof, I'm going to have to blindfold you from here on out. I can't let you see the way there, all right?)" The young lieutenant offered him an apologetic smile, but the man waved it off.

"(No harm done. No harm, my sweet _Mary_. _Anything _for you.)" He winked boldly as the woman blushed, tying the thin strip of cloth around his eyes. He deep, hearty chuckling only added to her embarrassment, and she was glad he couldn't see. Her face was probably beet red.

"(Oh, enough, you big fool. We'll be there in no time. Try to keep those 'Sweet Mary,' comments to a minimum. I have a reputation to uphold, ya know.)" She huffed, and patted him on the arm, placing both of his hands on her shoulders. "(Those hands better _stay _there, too,)" she added as an afterthought, earning another round of laughter from the man behind her.

The tiny officer lead the two of them expertly back along the trail she had taken. She could see her own footsteps, and followed the sounds of the men as they echoed and bounced along the dense foliage of the Bois Jacques. It did not take them long, before the company CP came into sight.

As she neared the command post, she turned deftly to Christof, whipping the blindfold off his eyes in one easy move. He blinked rapidly, before his eyes adjusted to the light, or perhaps, lack thereof. "(Ah, so good it is to see you again, Mary Jane. I was lost in the darkness until _you _came along.)"

M.J. huffed and rolled her eyes, grabbing him by the sleeve and pulling him along behind her. As she neared the CP, she was startled to find that both Winters and Nixon had returned, and were sitting around a very small fire, talking quietly to themselves. Upon noticing their arrival, Nixon immediately sat up, drawing his pistol from his belt. Winters, startled by his friend's actions, turned to see what had caused Nixon's abrupt behavior, before hastily grabbing his own rifle and following after Lewis.

"Lieutenant _Heartford_! What do you _think _you're doing? What is _this_?" M.J. was startled by Winters' words, and took a step back, Christof placed a had on her shoulder, but quickly dropped it when Nixon growled menacingly.

Sighing, M.J. held out her hands, placing them on the rifles the two men held, before lowering them gently. "It's all right. I can explain. But first, Captain Winters, may I present to you Captain Christof Alard, K Company, 16th Special Ops Battalion, 1st Division. I think he's got something that he'd like to tell ya."

---

"So, you're Captain Christof?"

The blue-eyed man smiled slightly, nodding his head as he finished off the last of the rations they had given him. "Yes," he replied thoughtfully. "I am. Captain Christof Alard. I am German by birth, but my family moved to the United States when I was fourteen. I never lost my accent, nor my fluid command of the language, so it's only natural that I would be selected for just such a battalion." He shrugged, and dusted his hands off.

M.J. stood beside the entrance to the makeshift tent. She had been told by Winters that Dike had been replaced by Lieutenant Spiers of Dog Company during the attack, after he had failed to do as commanded, and move his men forward. The young lieutenant was relieved to hear this, and was happy to know, after asking, that both Bill and Joe made it back safely as well.

Christof eyed the woman carefully, before turning his attention back to Captain Winters, and Captain Nixon. Both men seemed interested in what he had to say, and had sent a runner to Colonel Sink, informing him tat they would msot likely head up to regiment in a few hours, with their new intelligence officer in tow.

"All right," Christof began. "You've taken Foy, correct?" Both Winters and Nixon nodded slowly, watching the man apprehensively. They still weren't comfortable around him, especially since he was German. M.J., however, had assured them that he was all right.

"Yes, well, that won't be the last town you'll be ordered to take, I am sure. To the north, both Noville and Rachamps await. Hitler's forces will be pulling back to those towns, and, if you are lucky, they'll _keep _going. But I don't foresee that happening anytime soon. Those cities are too well fortified to be left in the hands of the enemy." He paused and rubbed his hands together, watching with mild interest and M.J. shifted her position and moved closer to listen to what he had to say.

"Now, '_Alsace_.' Does it ring any bells?" M.J. nodded slowly, along with Nixon, whilst Winters shook his head thoughtfully. "Yes, well, Alsace will be Hitler's counter-offensive. They're bound for Hagenau. I can almost guarantee you that, that will be where you're going."

M.J. folded her arms across her chest. "Hagenau? Why _there_,sir? That city is nothing but rubble and ruin. What's so important about it? Surely Hitler isn't _that _stupid. Does he think he can launch a counter-offensive from a pile of rocks?"

Christof's eyes twinkled with amusement, and he smiled. "You are absolutely right, lieutenant. Hagenau lies in ruin. However, it is not the city that is so very important, but the other side of the river _beside _the city. That is where they will fall back to, that is where they will launch the counter-offensive. They think a _river _will protect them from our American forces. They are certainly _dead _wrong." His lips tugged upwards in a grin, and he held up his head with one gloved hand.

Winters looked thoughtful, while Nixon looked a bit apprehensive. He knew exactly what they were talking about, and though he wasn't worried about it, he had hoped Easy would get a bit of time before it had to attack the next town. It looked like, with this new information, that they'd be sent out again _very _soon.

Richard sighed heavily, and rubbed his temple. He could feel another headache coming on. "All right, Captain Alard. I think it would be best if we sent you up to regiment, so they can get you back to your company, and you can _personally _pass this information on to Colonel Sink." He stood up, and Christof and Nixon followed suit.

Christof glanced at Winters, and then at M.J. "Captain, if I may. I would like my lieutenant to return with me. She's very valuable to K Company." M.J. froze, her eyes going wide. _Return to K Company_? But she couldn't! She had promised Joe and Bill that she would stay, and besides, she enjoyed tagging along with Easy.

"Sir, I must protest. Colonel Sink has placed me in Easy for a reason, and I must request to remain with them, if it's not too much trouble. I don't _want _to go back, sir." Christof's eyes darkened for a moment, and he looked a bit sad to hear her say that. But he smiled anyway, and nodded.

"Very well then, lieutenant, if that is what you want. I wish you the best of luck, and I hope we meet again someday soon." Boots clicking together, he saluted the young woman, who, in turn, smiled and did the same.

"Good _luck_, M.J."

---

**Author's Note: **That…Was _so _random. I just thought I'd throw that in there, yeah. So, what did everyone think? Please review, because I need some feedback. They'll get outta Bastogne eventually, don't worry. And very soon, surprisingly, the story will be over, but there's still many chapters to come. And you know what, towards the end, I'm gonna start putting some random people into the story, because I like doing that. So if you'd like a character of yours, of heck, even you, somehow placed somewhere in the plot-line, then go right ahead and tell me. I enjoy putting random people and random things into my stories. Whoo! Yeah…But seriously, review!

**Next Chapter: **M.J. and the rest of Easy leave Bastogne, and take the towns of Rachamps and Noville. And perhaps even Hagenau. (That preview sucked…)


	6. Mistake

**Author's Note: **ZOMG! An update! I know, I know. I practically died, I was gone for so long. But I'm back. Yeah...No trumpets? Anyways...This chapter explains the last chapter a bit more, and it moves the plotline upwards. Whoo! (Sighs) My computer is buzzing at me for some unknown reason...NOTE: this chapter has been updated as of 5/9/11.

Again, that whole 'if you want your character/self in this story, then ask and I will put them in somewhere' offer still stands. Just ask, and I can write your character or self into the story. Although it might be a short part. I already have one person that I have an idea for, since she asked to be put in. (Laughs evilly)

BTW, everyone should read the stories by **WETSU**(I recommend both of her stories. They simply rock!), **Winter-Rae **(Again, I recommend _all _her stories. They're all so wonderful!)and **JumpGirl42**(I recommend _all _her stories, ever _single _one of em'! They're awesomeful!)

Oh, and another BTW. You know, thanks, GottaPenny. You really made me get off my lazy butt and write this chapter. Yeah. Thanks!

**Title: **Just One Word

**Rating: **T (PG-13) Yeah. For language, death and probably violence. But mostly language and death.

**Summary: **An unknown solider. Tossed aside, she was forgotten. It would have been nice to know some one cared…And even though she was surrounded by a company of men, she was so very alone…

**Disclaimer: **Since these are real people, I own nothing but my characters. This story is purely fictional, and I hope no one is offended by it. Thank you.

(Blah Blah.) - **German**

"Blah Blah." - **English**

**Chapter 5: **Mistake

M.J. rubbed her hands together as she stared at the two officers.

"Are you sure that was a wise choice, lieutenant? Won't your company need you?" Nixon glanced up at the young officer, warming his hands by the tiny, near-invisible fire that he and Winter's had started. M.J. shook her head, shivering a bit in the cold.

"No, no. K Company is practically non-existent. Well, at least the part _I_ belong to. The Special Ops Battalion is basically a self-operating battalion, meaning that it operates independently of the rest of the company. In fact, we had little to no contact with the rest of the men during basic training. Special Ops works alone. It assigns it's soldiers, or what we like to call, 'field operators,' to different and separately independent missions. I have even less contact with my battalion than I do with the Germans on the other side of the forest."

She shrugged and wrapped her arms around her torso. Nixon lifted his eyebrows, but said nothing more.

"Christof is my captain, but he's also a good friend of mine. It's why he acquiesced with my request to stay with Easy. He knows I wouldn't make such a choice lightly. I'm not that type of person." She leaned in, when Winters looked up, narrowing her eyes. "Listen. I would love to return to my company, but the moment I did, I'd get my ass booted back over to the German lines. No way in _hell _am I going to let that happen. Christof, however, won't be going back. _He _has strict orders after this to stay in London, where he's been ordered to write up a report on everything he saw, did and uncovered, and deliver it directly to Ike. What _we_ do out here, it's not taken lightly. We put our asses on the line for that information."

Richard shifted slightly to get a better look at M.J. "Yes, lieutenant, but have you forgotten? The men out here put their asses on the line as well, and they don't get to go home to be revered by Ike. They get measly rations, no winter clothing, and hell in a foxhole. You're no different, and you're not something special."

M.J. couldn't help but laugh. She allowed the laughter to overrun her common sense, and was soon holding her sides as tears nearly streamed down her cheeks. Richard and Lewis looked confused, and, suffice to say, a bit worried for her sanity. Wiping the tears from her cheek, she smiled.

"Ah, thanks, captain. I sure needed that. Not that I was laughing at _you_. You _are _right, but I never said anything about me being special, now did I? I'm just one small part of the whole goddamn war. And I'm proud to be that small part." Shaking her head, she saluted the two officers, who, in turn, quickly return it lest she spout off something profound, and marched off.

Nixon turned to Winters, looking quite perplexed. "What the hell is _wrong _with her?" he questioned slowly. Richard shook his head, looking just as confused as his friend.

"I don't know, Nix. Maybe Toye scrambled her brains when he brought her in off the line...She'd _have _to be crazy to want to stay out here..."

Christof had been spot on when he'd spoken of Noville and Rachamps. In the next couple of weeks, Easy took both towns.

Easy Company went into their newest campaign with 121 men and officers and 24 replacements. They cam out with only 63. They had lost Herron, Sowosko, Kenneth and Harold Webb, Mellet, Alex Penkala, Skip Muck, Buck Compton, and Norman Dike.

M.J. however, was forbidden from joining in on any assault, much to her displeasure. In fact, she was sent to the company CP, to stay with Colonel Sink, where it was _safe_.

Needless to say, she wasn't happy about it at all. Sink had a mighty hard time controlling his wayward new intelligence officer, and her outbursts were starting to wear on everyone's nerves.

When the company finally made it into Hagenau, everyone in the CP was glad to be rid of the fiery young lieutenant. And she made every effort to stay as far away from all of them as possible.

When she _was _finally released from 'protective custody,' as many liked to call it, she had a hell of a time getting back to easy. On the way there, she met up with a man named Webster, who, in fact, had _literally _run into her.

"Sorry, miss," he apologized profusely, holding out a hand to a disgruntled, and now very muddy, lieutenant. M.J. growled, before pushing herself up on two hands. She ignored his offer of assistance, and helped herself of the ground, brushing off what dirt and grime she could.

"It's not _'miss_,' private. It's _lieutenant_." David Webster looked quite confused. A _woman _was a lieutenant? Scratching his head, he wondered what the war was coming to while M.J. eyed him and his uniform critically.

"Airborne, huh?" she spoke suddenly. Webster jumped, and nodded.

"Er, yes, sir. I mean ma'am...I mean...Uh, Lieutenant." M.J. looked amused, and offered him a half-smile.

"No worries, private. You can come with me. I'm on my way to find the 101st right about now, and I could use a little help getting back. I'm not so keen on directions, I'll have you know."

Webster looked surprised, before nodding. He picked up his bag, and slung it over his shoulder, offering to carry M.J.'s bag as well. She shook her head, and hoisted it onto her back. Webster looked a bit put out. He had no idea how to handle this woman, who claimed to be a lieutenant looking for the 101st Airborne. She was...Well, he wasn't _used _to what she _was_. He was used to nurses, all smiles and crisp, clean uniforms. Happy wives and homemakers, always glad to see a new face. Not scruffy, solider girls, who looked more like men than women caked in dirt and grime. She was a real mystery.

It did not take the two long to find the convoy Easy had been traveling with. The platoons had been put onto three separate trucks. As M.J. and Webster jogged a bit to catch the first one in sight, M.J. frowned at just how empty the truck really was. There should be way more people with them. Johnny Martin stood up, nodding at M.J. in recognition, before turning steely eyes onto one Private David Webster.

"Hey, guys," he called happily, walking behind the truck. M.J. kept a steady pace alongside him, shaking her head quietly. She would say nothing. Martin looked displeased, and motioned ahead of them.

"Why don't you go join Second Platoon, Webster? They lost more guys than we did."

M.J. agreed, though she did not voice her opinion out loud. Webster looked a bit disappointed, but nodded and continued on his way, M.J right beside him. They tagged along behind the next truck, Webster looking far more hopeful than before.

"Hey, guys," he repeated, earning a few disgruntled looks from the men. "Where is everyone?" M.J. shook her head, and bypassed the private, getting an unspoken hand up by Jackson. Webster glanced at the lieutenant as she sat down beside the young private.

"Jackson, right?" Webster asked. "Can you give me a hand up, Jackson?" Eugene Jackson offered him a hand reluctantly, pulling him up onto the truck with little effort. Webster sat down next to M.J. as she glanced up at Malarkey. He looked beat, and pretty down. She didn't blame him.

He had suffered the _most_...

"Where are the other sergeants?" Webster voiced, seeming to channel M.J.'s thoughts. She too had been wondering where Bill and Joe were.

Malarkey looked over at them, before his eyes strayed to M.J. and locked onto her brown ones. "They caught a bit of shrapnel in the arm. They'll be fine. They're in an aid station here in town. Don't worry." he half-smiled, before returning to the dead-straight stare he had been so intent on perfecting only moments ago.

"All right," M.J. breathed. She glanced at Webster, catching only the tail end of another private's remark. He had said they were making Malarkey a lieutenant? Battlefield commission? What the _hell_? Shaking her head, she caught Donald's eye, and he frowned, mouthing the words 'Not _me_. Lipton.'

M.J. seemed to take it in stride, leaning against the back of the truck as she tried to get more comfortable. Boy, the things theses guys would say. She just couldn't believe it.

* * *

"Hey there, Lip."

M.J. strode into the new CP, offering a half salute to Lipton as he lay stretched out on a couch. "What's got ya so down? You look worse than a fish outta water." She eyed him critically, before moving closer, peering into his face with unmasked concern. Lipton scooted back, uncomfortable with the close proximity of this pretty girl.

Luz walked by, and grabbed M.J. by the collar, pulling her back with a laugh. "Easy there, lieutenant. You don't want Joe to see you gettin' so close to another fella." M.J turned around and smacked him a good one on the arm, growling a bit under her breath. Webster, meanwhile, had come into the room, looking quite bewildered.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

Luz shook his head. "Ah, nothin' much. Lip's just got pneumonia." He unfolded a blanket he had carried in with him, before spreading it out on top of Lipton, who gave a few, shaky coughs.

"I'm sorry," Webster voiced, looking concerned.

George laughed, smoking on a cigarette, before heading towards the other room. His voice floated back to them. "What the hell are _you _sorry for? He's got a couch, a nice blanket, hot food. He's snug as a bug." M.J. chuckled, leaning over the back of the couch and reading over the papers Lipton held in his hand.

"I wish you wouldn't do that, M.J.," he sighed with a smile. "I can't concentrate when someone reads over my shoulder."

"For God's sake. Go sack out in the back! There's beds and clean sheets back there!" M.J. glanced up sharply, narrowing her eyes, before she came face to face with one Captain Ronald Spiers. She hadn't ever met the man, but she knew a real solider when she saw one. She stood, and saluted.

"Lieutenant M.J. Heartford, at your service," she supplied automatically. Spiers looked confused to see a woman in his CP, nearly dropping the paperwork he had in his hand as his cigarette dangled dangerously out of his mouth. "And this is Private David Webster. He's lookin' for where he belongs. Sergeant Martin old him to go to First platoon."

Spiers seemed to regain his composure, because he stared hard at Webster. "Fine, first platoon then. And Lieutenant, where do _you _belong?" he gave her a quizzical look, and, as M.J. stared at him, she wondered if this good lookin' fella was really the crazy lieutenant everyone had made him out to be.

"Er," she blushed under his gaze. No one had looked at her like that in quite a while. "I'm right where I'm 'sposed to be. I'm Easy's new part-time intelligence officer. Didn't anyone tell y-?"

"I'm Lieutenant Jones. I was told to come here to find Easy's commanding officer."

M.J. and Spiers turned at the same time, both with identical looks of annoyance written across their faces. Jones looked a bit frightened at first, but after a few eye blinks, and one snort of laughter from M.J., he calmed down.

"Lieutenant _Jones_, is it?" M.J. questioned, raising a skeptical eyebrow. Realizing she was a woman, he gaped. He probably would have pointed and jumped up and down too, if he wouldn't have gotten his ass fried for it. "Never heard of you. Are you a _replacement_?"

"Ah, our West Pointer?"

M.J. started, and glanced over to see Dick Winters and Lewis Nixon walk into the room. She grinned, and saluted, simply because she knew she was supposed to. "Ah. What a _happy _little reunion. I'm having a very good day today, aren't I?" she hugged herself, before hopping over to Dick. "Did ya miss me?"

Dick chuckled, and nodded. "Yes. Colonel Sink kept saying how _happy _he was to get rid of you. Seems you caused quite the stir back at Battalion HQ. Poor man. You gave him the hardest time of his life, didn't you?"

M.J. nodded. "Fighting a hundred Germans would have been easier on him." Snorting, she crossed her arms over her chest. She heard Nixon laugh, and glanced over her shoulder to see him turn back to her, an annoyed looking Lieutenant Jones left in his wake.

"What'd you _say _to him?" she muttered. Nixon only laughed harder, and clapped her on the back, strolling past she and Dick like nothing had happened. "Oh _God_, he probably insulted his mother or something," M.J. growled. She turned to Dick. "Eh, I'll take him and Webster over to the...Wait, where _are _the other guys anyway?"

Dick shrugged. "I'm almost positive they're in a house a few blocks down. It's not far. I'll have two of my _best _soldiers show you there. They're both waiting outside." He too, clapped her on the shoulder, smiling in a 'nice-to-have-you-back,' way, before he turned, nodding to Spiers to follow him, and strode out the room.

Spiers offered M.J. a brief smile, and the young lieutenant felt her cheeks lighting up as she quickly turned and motioned for Webster and Jones to follow her out the door. Spiers only smirked, watching her go with an appreciative eye, before following his commander into the other room.

Pushing open the door, M.J. turned to be sure Webster and Jones were following her. Jones seemed interested in where they were going, while Webster looked confused. Why was this _woman _showing _them _where to go? Couldn't they get anyone _else _to do it? He sighed and hung his head, trudging along in his own personal slump.

M.J. spotted the '_two best soldiers' _sitting across the rubble filled street, smoking cigarettes in the shelter of an old archway. She smiled and began picking her way over to them. Jones stayed by her side, giving her odd looks the entire time. "_What_?" she asked after a few seconds of silent, intent staring.

"You're a woman."

M.J. sighed. "Yes, thank you Captain Obvious. I _am _a woman. Would you also like to point out that the sky is blue? Or that the grass is green? Because really, we'd all love to hear it." Jones looked taken-aback, but smiled.

"How'd you end up out here?" he questioned. M.J. shook her head.

"Long story."

"Where are you from?"

"The United States."

"What state?"

"The state of 'None of Your Business.' It's pretty small. You might not know it."

"What's your first name?"

"Really nice, actually. But not many people know what it really is."

"How long have you been in Germany?"

"Longer than you've been out of school, West Pointer."

"Do you _ever _answer anyone's questions?"

"Yeah, I _do_. See, I just _answered _your question."

Instead of getting aggravated with her game, Jones seemed amused by it, for he appeared to be unable to wipe the strange grin off his face. As they headed towards the soldiers, he simply seemed to become more and more intrigued by this strange woman. He couldn't take his eyes off her.

M.J. was getting desperate. She had seen this look before. She didn't know what to say, or do. And she could almost hear the next question _before _he asked it. She braced herself for the inevitable, just as she reached the two soldiers.

"Do you have a _fella _back home?"

Sighing out loud, she grabbed the first soldier's arm, pulling him forward roughly. He dropped his half-smoked cigarette, and growled a bit when he saw what he'd done, muttering a 'damn it, M.J. That was my God-damned cigarette.' "Yep, sure do. Only, he's right _here_, and not at home. So don't try nothin' or he'll whip your ass. And we're in _love_, so I don't foresee any 'Dear John,' letters in the future. Yeah. End of discussion. End of questions. Got it, Lieutenant?"

By now, Lieutenant Jones was speechless. He hadn't expected _that_. In fact, he had expected a witty remark, and then another question. But not this! Furrowing his brows, he frowned, before shutting his mouth, and saying nothing more.

The second solider was hooting with laughter, slapping his thighs as he struggled to stay standing, while the soldier M.J. had grabbed a hold of in a last ditch effort to rid herself of unwanted pursuers, turned a darker shade of red with each passing moment. The laughing soldier wiped his eyes, before clapping his buddy on the back. "Make sure you invite me to the wedding, Joe!" he chuckled. "And name your first _son _after me!"

M.J. too, had turned red. "_Shut _it, Bill. Or so help me God, you won't even be _able _to have any children."

Wild Bill shut his mouth pretty quickly after that.

* * *

They had made it to the Company's quarters pretty easily. It wasn't hard. After a few ducks and dodges here, a few narrow misses there, and a couple of hard slaps to a laughing Wild Bill, the small party made it back in one piece.

"Jesus, M.J. You sure have a mean right hook." Bill rubbed his cheek, glaring from under his helmet at a very smug, very amused lieutenant. She held up her fist for emphasis on her next words.

"And you'll feel it _again_, Bill, if you don't quit with the wisecracks."

Bill only chuckled, still smiling as he made his way up the stairs. M.J. motioned for Webster and Jones to follow him. Both did, Webster with a smile and a nod, and Jones with a scowl. When they disappeared, M.J. snorted. "Bah. Dumb kid..." She stuck her tongue out in his general direction, wishing he was there to see it.

Joe chuckled softly, and placed a hand on her shoulder before she could ascend the stairs. "Um...About that...Scene back there...Were you _joking_?" He looked a bit confused, and apprehensive. M.J. sighed and shook her head.

"Well...Yeah. I was, actually. That Jones was really getting to me. And I had to think of _something_. Sorry about that, and all. I was desperate." She smiled reassuringly, and patted Joe's arm.

His brows furrowed, and the usually quiet solider frowned. "I _see_," he muttered. Ignoring M.J.'s confused look, he ascended the stairs in front of her, and disappeared from sight. M.J stared after him, looking uncomfortable and unhappy. She had a feeling she had just done something _terrible_.

And it could only get _worse_...

* * *

**Author's Note: **Whoo! Another chapter! Yeah, I know I've been gone _forever_. I haven't updated any of my stories in a while. I've been uncreative lately, and nothing I write ever seems good enough. Sorry this chapter is kind of cruddy. Eh...The next update may take a while, as I will be gone for a couple of days, and then school starts again. Oh, woe is me...


	7. Sorry

_**-1Author's Note: **__Whoa! An update? I surprised even me! Whoot! Well, anyways, I might as well tell you that, yes, High school is here. And yes, it's my last year (Muffled cheering). So I have tons of things to do and whatnot. I'm surprised I've updated, with what little time I've had. Yay! NOTE: this chapter has been updated as of 5/9/11._

_BTW, everyone should read the stories by __**WETSU **__(I recommend both of her stories. They simply rock!), __**Winter-Rae **__(Again, I recommend all _her stories. They're all so wonderful!) and **JumpGirl42 **(I recommend _all _her stories, ever _single _one of em'! They're awesomeful!)

Oh, and another BTW. Thanks, Rae, for helping me find my inspiration again!

**Quote of the Day: **"'Don't do anything stupid'? Who's _he _talking to? A bunch of morons who volunteered to jump out of a perfectly good airplane." - Penkala

**Title: **Just One Word

**Rating: **T (PG-13) Yeah. For language, death and probably violence. But mostly language and death.

**Summary: **An unknown solider. Tossed aside, she was forgotten. It would have been nice to know some one cared…And even though she was surrounded by a company of men, she was so very alone…

**Disclaimer: **Since these are real people, I own nothing but my characters. This story is purely fictional, and I hope no one is offended by it. Thank you.

_When I say I'm sorry,Will you believe me?Listen to my story,Say you won't leave I say I'm sorry,Can you forgive me?_

_When I say I will always be there,Will you believe, will you believe in me?_

_-Chris Daughtry, Sorry_

**Chapter 6: **Sorry

Blowing her bangs out of her face, M.J. huffed unhappily.

She was leaned up against the window, tilting her chair on its back legs in a precarious position. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, and one leg jiggled impatiently as she waited for Bill to return.

He had been gone for nearly an hour, and while she was all for getting up and dragging his sorry ass back to the rubble filled house, she had been ordered to stay indoors. Why? Well, the same reason she was not allowed to participate in the assaults on Foy, Rachamps and Noville.

She was a _woman_.

Growling under her breath, she let her chair fall back to earth with a loud 'Bang!' and jolted from her seat. A few of the fellows that had been lounging about in their cots, playing a friendly game of cards, offered her odd looks. She passed by them without a word, swiftly making her way to where George was sorting rations in the other room.

Sighing heavily, she drug her booted feet across the carpet, to plunk her arms down on the desk that stood in front of the radio operator. "_George_," she whined, burying her face in her folded arms. George looked up, an amused smile on his face.

"Yeah, princess?"

She mock glared at him for a brief moment, before giving up any form of intimidation, and plunked her head back down with an audible thump. "Can you go get Bill for me? I'm _bored_..." She smiled sweetly, blinking her long dark lashes in a cute way.

George only shook his head, still looking entirely too amused for his own good. "No can do, princess. I've gotta sort out these rations, and make sure they get where they need to go. Isn't there anyone else you can weasel into doing your dirty work?"

"I wasn't weaseling," she protested lamely, but shrugged. "Now that you mention it..." The sound of boot steps echoed in the hall, and a couple of the men rounded the corner. Cobb, Liebgott and Martin. They each offered her a greeting and a smile, before turning to their friend behind the large desk. Smiling evilly, M.J. clung to the desk for a moment, before picking up a chocolate bar from one of George's boxes.

"Oi," he growled, his cigarette hanging out of his mouth. But other than his initial protest, he ignored her thievery.

"Hey, boys," M.J. cajoled casually, smiling brightly. "How would one of you like to do me a favor?"

The three soldiers exchanged looks, knowing that whatever it was, it was probably unpleasant. They glanced at the chocolate bar, then at George, and turned to the radio operator. "Hey, how'd you like to _share _that chocolate, George?" Cobb asked him quickly, his eyes shifting nervously to M.J. George laughed out loud, nearly dropping his cigarette as Vest shuffled into the room and behind the desk to help sort things out.

M.J. looked put out, and annoyed. She crossed her arms, glaring at the three offenders. "Hey, I'm not your runner," Martin protested, holding his hands up in defeat, but failing to hide his amusement. Joe and Cobb studiously avoided meeting her gaze, and Joe even resorted to whistling as if he'd done nothing wrong.

Grumbling to herself, M.J. turned and stalked off down the hall, past the bunk beds and towards the stairs. She hadn't gotten very far when she ran into a rather large, rather soft, _moving _object. Wincing slightly as she bounced off said object, M.J. looked up in time to see Joe as he glanced past her and exited the room.

She shook her head. Was he still angry with her? She just couldn't figure that man out. He needed to talk more. At least then, he could tell her what was wrong. Sighing heavily, she continued her trek through the rooms, until she came to the edge of the stairs leading to the bottom floors.

A sudden quaking nearly sent her tumbling down them, and the sounds of shells overhead drowned out her high-pitched shriek as she clung to the banister. A second later, nearly every man who had been at the top floor, rushed her way. Joe, who had just entered the room previous, had been the first one to the stairs. He grabbed her waist and bodily hauled her down them, the other men following as everyone dived for cover under random objects.

Being plunked down by a very un-talkative and grudge bearing sergeant, M.J. reflected on the hilarity of the situation. Here she was sitting underneath an old, rickety table with Joe next to her, trying to cover both of them with his arms. Like any of _that _would have stopped a very determined shell. If it wanted to hit them, it sure as hell _would_.

_She chuckled._

Her body was squashed against the hard, cold floor, and Joe was still leaning over her as the shells rocked the old building and debris began to rain down in small bit and pieces over the cowering soldiers. The table continued to rock, and she glanced around at the men who covered their heads with their arms, chairs and anything else they could find.

_She giggled._

Joe gave her a strange look. It was frustrated, annoyed, and unhappy. She glanced at him, and she couldn't help the laughter that bubbled to the surface. _I really have cracked, _she reflected grimly, as she held her arms around her sides and laughed until she could hardly breathe.

_She laughed._

By now, the shelling had all but stopped, and the soldiers were peeking out of their respective hiding places, and offering her strange looks. Joe scooted out from under the table, all but dragging the hysterical lieutenant with him. He stared at her for a moment, laughing without a care in the world, and after a few seconds of scowling, he began to feel his lips twitch.

_He smiled._

Standing there, staring at the girl he had come to know over the short span of a few months, Joe couldn't help but reflect on how odd the situation was. Him angry at her for her thoughtlessness. Her, unaware of _why _he was angry. And then the bombing had started, and all he could think about was getting the both of them to safety. He hadn't really cared about his grudge, or her careless words. He had just thought about saving their lives. It was really very funny, and quite, he had to admit, _odd_.

_He grinned._

M.J. gave him a strange look, and continued her laughing, her face scrunched up and her eyes closed tight as she held her sides and chortled merrily. He glanced at her and he couldn't help the laughter that bubbled to the surface. _I really have cracked,_ he reflected with an annoyed mental snort, as he held his arms around his sides and laughed until he could hardly breathe.

_He laughed. _

The two stood there, laughing, smiling and forgetting their troubles as the rest of their comrades scuttled warily around them, afraid to catch whatever they might have, and hurried back upstairs. M.J.'s laughter began to slowly subside, winding down to a smattering of light giggles.

Joe's laughter died down as well, and he chuckled one last time, his laughter fizzling out completely. He couldn't believe he'd been mad at her for something so silly. It was ridiculous really, and the past few moments, had, strangely, changed his mind about it all. He couldn't believe how a few seconds of extreme worry and panic for someone who was so close to you, could change a guy. But then again, he shouldn't be surprised. This _was _war, after all.

_His smile did not fade as he offered her his hand. _

M.J. wiped a tear from her eye as he laughter subsided completely, and dipped her head inquisitively. She couldn't believe she'd been so thoughtless about such a silly thing. It was ridiculous really, and the past few moments, had, strangely, changed her mind about it all. She felt bad for what she had said, and suddenly realized how much it must've hurt her friend. She couldn't believe how a few seconds of hysterical hilarity with a person who was so close to you, could change a gal. But then again, she shouldn't be surprised. This _was _war, after all.

_Her smile did not fade as she took his hand._

* * *

"So, youz two have made up, I see?"

M.J. glanced up from where she and Joe had been playing cards. Joe kept his eyes trained on his hand, and then, without warning, flipped down one of his cards with a very soft, and triumphant '_ha_!' M.J. whipped her head around, and groaned as she threw her cards onto the table.

"Damn! That is the - what, fourth, fifth? - time you've beat me, Joe. You're one lucky bastard." She growled as he collected his chocolate bar, a last-ditch effort from M.J. to win her two dollars from the previous games back, as his prize. Bill laughed, slapping his friend on the back as he settled into a chair between the two.

"Hey, youz two hear about that mission tonight? Our fellas is gonna cross that river, there. I feel sorry for the poor guys that gotta head out on that one. I mean, despite the shellin', it's pretty comfy-cozy here, right?"

M.J. rolled her eyes. "Yes, Bill. Despite the crippling fear of going outside and being hit by a random incoming mortar, and the fact that the buildings are falling apart, and I don't have my damn _chocolate bar _anymore, it's pretty 'comfy-cozy,' as you say."

"_Right_?"

"You're an idiot, Wild Bill..." she sighed.

Joe rubbed his chin as he stuck his newly won chocolate bar in his front pocket. M.J. made a mental note to try and weasel it back from him later on. "So, who's goin' on the mission anyways?" he cajoled, glancing at Bill.

The laughing soldier, who had been receiving none too friendly glares from the female intelligence officer, pulled off his helmet and ran a hand through his dark hair. "Let's see...Jackson, Grant, Powers, Wynn, Webster, Vest, Cobb, Jones, Heffron, Ramirez, McClung, Sisk, Garcia and Martin."

M.J. unfolded her arms, blinking in surprise. "_Vest_? _Jones_? _Those _two? Is that a good idea? I mean, they have absolutely _zero _combat experience. What if they panic? Those boys are relying heavily on secrecy. You can't have much of that if you've got a couple of hysterical new kids tagging along."

Bill nodded his head slowly. "Believe you me, princess, they've given this as much thought as they _could_. Jones isn't leading, _thank God_, and Vest should be a part of the firing squad. Him, Pop, Web, Cobb and Jones is supposed to be layin' down a base of fire. But hell, who can ever tell with these types of missions? It'll probably all go to hell and no one will know what they're doin'. Although, I bet they'll get through it, if they got _Martin _leadin' them. Now there's a man I'd like to be watching my back when I encountered a group o' Krauts. Damn good soldier."

M.J. and Joe looked thoughtful as they took in everything that Bill had just told them. She was quite glad that neither of them had been selected for the mission. Probably due to the fact that they had been injured recently. Sighing, she folded her arms once more, and turned to Joe. "Now about my chocolate bar..." she ventured in a falsely sweet tone.

Bill couldn't stop laughing.

* * *

"What do you think, Joe?" M.J. sat on the end of the bunk, hands folded in her lap.

"Bout what?" Joe questioned tiredly, raising his arm from where he'd slung it over his eyes after he'd claimed the bed for himself. M.J. occupied only the end of it, and had knocked his boots aside when he'd laughingly refused to move.

"About all this. The patrol, ya know?"

Joe gave her a look from beneath his arm, before he closed his eyes. "I don't think about it much. It's better not to. Gets in the way of doing what you gotta do. Don't dwell on it, M.J. It'll only lead to trouble."

"Yeah, but-"

Joe growled and reached forward to grab the back of her collar, dragging her across his legs until she lay sprawled against the wall and his booted feet. "I told you, M.J. Don't think about it. Just focus on the here and the now."

M.J. turned her head slightly to the side, watching Joe with a steady look. He caught her gaze, and the two stared at one another for a few silent moment. "So…what is the here and now, Joe?" M.J. asked quietly, her voice sounding loud in the darkened room.

M.J. leaned forward a little, twisting her body so that her face was only a few inches from Joe's. "'Cuz it would make more sense to focus on it, if I knew what it was, don't you think?"

Joe swallowed loudly, and M.J. could see his eyes shining in the dark. He parted his lips, face inching closer to hers. She could feel his heart hammering in his chest beneath her hand where it perched to keep her steady.

Their lips were only a hairs breadth away…

"'Ey, youz two! Look what _I_ got!"

M.J. was so startled, she nearly leapt out of her skin. As it was, her and Joe's foreheads collided, and sent her head flying backwards into the top of the bunk that hovered over them. A loud clang, and a volley of swears followed Bill's exclamation, belonging to both Joe and M.J. as they roundly cursed their friend's ill timing.

M.J. rolled out from beneath the top bunk, clutching her head and practically growling under her breath. "God damn it, son of a bitch, that hurt!"

"Damn it, Bill! Couldn't you have waited a few more minutes?" Joe cried, rubbing his forehead where it had knocked into M.J.'s.

Bill looked confused, holding up a bottle of what looked like champagne or wine, and tilted his head curiously. "What? What did I do?" He paused to let his gaze rake over their flushed faces and the fact that they'd been _sharing_ a bunk. He grinned devilishly, and folded his arms, finally putting two and two together. "Was it something I _said_?"

* * *

The assault that night did not go off without a hitch.

Although it did not 'go all to hell,' either, as Bill had predicted, they had lost one member of the group. Eugene Jackson was hit by his own grenade, and died not long after they brought him back across the river. It was felt deeply by all the members of the assault force, and those who gathered in the small, shaking room as mortars rained down all around them. Jackson had been a good man, and nobody wanted to see him go. It tore at Easy, and left a deep hole in the hearts of many.

The only good thing to come out of the mission was the two Kraut prisoners. Of course, under threat of death and, thanks to M.J.'s interesting suggestions, _much worse_, they talked. The mission was such a success, according to the higher ups, that Colonel Sink ordered a second one for the next night. Needless to say, this did not sit well with Dick and Nixon, nor did it rest well with the men, who were tired, angry, and upset at being forced to take on another suicidal mission like the one before.

Risking his own neck, Dick call for a briefing about the ordered mission, and informed the men that it had failed. To the bewilderment and astonishment of all present, he ordered them to go back to their bunks and get a good night sleep.

M.J., who had learned of Dick's heroic call from one of the returning men, had only smiled and shook her head. He was a great man, and such a stunt could have cost him dearly. All the more reason to admire him.

* * *

M.J. sat outside on a nearby truck as the troops, along with Easy Company, packed up to leave.

Her bag sat beside her on the seat, and she had her arms folded across her knees. Frankly, she was tired dirty, and ready to leave this pile of rubble they had called home for quite some time now. She hadn't gotten a chance to shower, and for obvious reasons. Could she honestly expect to take a nice warm shower in peace? Not around _here_, she couldn't. Of course, she had every confidence that the men of Easy, especially Bill and Joe, would trounce anyone who so much as glanced in the direction of the tent showers, but still...

Why _risk _it?

So she sat, dirty, disheveled, and feeling quite grimy, on the back of the truck that was bound for their next destination. She sighed, unfolding one of her arms and propping up her chin as she watched the men milling about around the city. The sound of quiet footsteps beside her snapped her out of her silent reflection on just how dirty she really was, and she turned to see Eugene Roe standing beside her, his bag on the truck beside hers.

"Howdy," she greeted wearily, watching as he offered her a soft, amused smile. "How goes it, Eugene? Need anything? I've certainly got nothin' to do. I wouldn't mind helpin' ya gather up some supplies. 'Sides," she mumbled. "I could probably get em' easier than you." She pointed at her chest. "What, on account of _these _things."

Eugene coughed, and blushed furiously, but his smile did not waver. "Ah, no thanks ma'am. I've got everything I need here with me." He patted his trusty medic bag, and nodded, his large helmet bobbing on his small head. "You look down, lieutenant. Somethin' wrong, if'n you don't mind me askin'...?"

M.J. smiled. His voice was really rather comforting. It was no wonder he was so good at what he did. "Nope. Nothin', 'cept the fact that I'm filthy, tired, and...just disgusting, frankly. You guys are sure lucky. I wasn't able to take a proper shower...And Joe took my _chocolate bar_."

The last sentence made Eugene chortle a bit, and he reached into his bag and pulled out a small, square bar. "Here ya go, Lieutenant. I can't help you fix your shower problem, but I think I can remedy that chocolate one." He held it up to her, and M.J. smiled, taking the proffered gift and breaking it in half. She handed half of it back to the medic, much to his happy surprise, and stuffed the other half in her front pocket.

"Thanks, Eugene," she muttered, leaning back a bit. "Hey, can I ask you a question?" Eugene glanced up, and dipped his head in a polite nod. "All _right_...How come you never call me by my _name_?"

Eugene looked thoughtful for a moment, before settling his elbows on the tailgate of the truck. "Well, ma'am, to be honest, I just don't feel comfortable usin' nicknames, and I know that your mother _didn't _name you _'M.J.'_, beggin' your pardon. If I knew your real name, I'd be happy to use it, if that's what you want."

The young woman could only smile with a tilt of her head. "You're a strange one, Eugene. But I like ya, so I'll tell ya. And besides, I don't think you should be calling me 'ma'am' or 'lieutenant.' It just doesn't sound proper, coming from a nice guy like you. And I like to consider us friends, don't you?" Eugene smiled a bit, as his cheeks tinted a light shade of red. "My real name's 'Mary.' But don't tell anyone I told ya. I'm not too fond of it."

The Cajun medic looked a bit confused. "How come? Mary's a nice name, and it suits you. I like it, to tell you the truth. You shouldn't be ashamed of your name. Especially when you're _both _so pretty." He nodded to her, and picked up his bag, heading for another truck as the others fellas began to file towards hers.

M.J. couldn't help but smile at his retreating form, as helped haul up some of the bags that the Joe and Bill threw her way. As they all settled into their respective seats, Bill on one side of her, Joe on the other, M.J. leaned her head back against the thin railing on the side of their truck.

"What's that smile all about, kid?" Bill asked, slinging an arm around her shoulder and mimicking her position.

M.J. shrugged as Joe turned his head to offer the two a curious look. "What's _what _about?"

The young lieutenant sighed gently, and smiled softly up at the grey and blue sky. She watched the clouds drift by as she took her time answering their questions. "No matter how dirty I get," she muttered finally. "No matter how filthy and disgusting and _horrible _I feel...No matter how many rocks I get in my boots, or how uncomfortable they start to become after hours of walking...No matter how matted my hair gets, or how smudged my cheeks are, or if I haven't had a nice shower in something akin to _forever_...No matter what happens to me, or how I feel about _everything_...I'm glad I'm _here_."

Joe and Bill followed her gaze, but their thoughts turned elsewhere. To home, to their families, and to the loved ones they'd left behind. As much as they wanted to agree, they found that they just couldn't. They _wanted _to go home.

"Lemme rephrase that..." The young woman murmured once more. "I'm just glad I'm _here _with _you two_." M.J. sighed, finally finishing spouting off her thoughts. Joe and Bill's attention shifted back onto the fiery young lieutenant, and, in that brief moment, they found that, no matter what they thought or how they felt, they just couldn't agree _more_.

* * *

**A/N: **Long chapter. Hopefully that makes up for my absence. The next chapter, I must warn, deals with the episode 'Why We Fight,' and with the Holocaust. They are pretty emotional for me, and I just wanted to warn everyone what they were about.

Feedback is always welcome, good and bad. But please, constructive criticism only. Thank you!


	8. Emotions Are Overrated

**Author's Note: **O...K...Yeah. Havn't updated since I started my lat year of high school, and here I am, in my second semester of college. Time...sure flies?

**Quote of the Day: **

**Title: **Just One Word

**Rating: **T (PG-13) Yeah. For language, death and probably violence. But mostly language and death.

**Summary: **An unknown solider. Tossed aside, she was forgotten. It would have been nice to know some one cared…And even though she was surrounded by a company of men, she was so very alone…

**Disclaimer: **Since these are real people, I own nothing but my characters. This story is purely fictional, and I hope no one is offended by it. Thank you.

**Chapter 8:** Emotions Are Overrated

"So...Sturzelburg, huh?"

"Looks like it."

"What's there to do here?"

M.J. blinked rapidly, watching as Speirs rushed by with a box of silver. "Apparently," she muttered, answering Joe's question. "We collect silver in Sturzelburg."

Bill, Joe and M.J. watched as their newest captain made his way over to the 'post office.' Joe leaned up against a building, one booted foot propped up on the wall. Bill had his shoulder angled awkwardly beside him, and M.J. sat on the ground, knees drawn up in front of her. All three were...bored.

A loud honk from a passing jeep and a metallic clang caught their attention, and each looked over to see Speirs narrowly avoid being run over by Captain Nixon's jeep. "Wonder where he's goin' in such a hurry?" Bill commented, sounding curious. "And why's Nix in his jump gear?"

M.J. shrugged. "Heard he made a combat jump with the 17th," she replied lazily, her head tilted up to stare at the two men beside her.

"Really?" Bill grumbled. "Well, son of a bitch. I'd have liked to give that a go." He sighed heavily, and took a rather long drag off of his cigarette. M.J. glanced up at him.

"Nah. And leave us here? You wouldn't do that, would ya Bill?"

"Nah," he crowed, pushing himself off the wall. "After all, youz two couldn't even tie your own boots without me. Ya know that." With a rather exaggerated wink, Bill stepped over a bit of rubble lying in the street. Joe gave M.J. a hand up, and the three worked their way over to where a few of the men had gathered.

"Hey, looks like Nix is about to give one o' them 'current events' lectures, eh?" Bill remarked as the three drew closer. M.J. squinted and groaned; she'd come to dislike the 'current events' lectures.

"If we're lucky, they won't see us. Let's book it out of here before-"

"'Ey! Princess! Bill, Joe!"

M.J. groaned again, much to the amusement of her two companions. George Luz made his way over and slung an arm around M.J.'s shoulder, oblivious to the slightly annoyed stare Joe shot his way. "Been waitin' on you three," George chirped. "Come on and take a seat. Fun's about to start!"

"Fine," M.J. growled. "But call me 'princess' again, Luz, and I swear I'll break your foot."

* * *

"We're headin' out."

"No shit, Joe. I can see that. Not like I packed all my stuff for nuttin'. Where to, M.J.?"

M.J. gave Bill a withering stare. "Just because I'm an intelligence officer, Bill, doesn't mean I know _everything_."

It'd become somewhat of a ritual for the three to sit outside near that particular house. They always sat in the same positions too; Joe and Bill leaning against the building, while M.J. sat hunched over on the ground.

The trucks were already parked in various locations around their quick 'base of operations.' Soldiers milled about, each gathering their supplies as they made ready to move out. Joe, Bill and M.J. had all their stuff beside them. They liked to think ahead; of course, having a lieutenant who knew when the company was moving out as a close, personal friend helped too.

"Ah, who cares?" Joe muttered quietly to his companions. "Long as we get to do somethin' other than lean against an old house all day, I'm all for it." He cast a meaningful glance at M.J. She rolled her eyes.

"Like I said, dunno where we're going, so don't expect me to figure out what we're gonna _do _there."

* * *

Truck rides were always fun. It beat _walking_.

M.J., though usually seated next to Joe and Bill, had sidled up to sit next to Eugene. The quiet medic hadn't minded, but he had been a bit surprised. As the convoy of trucks rumbled and plowed down the road, the Cajun solider leaned over a bit, a small smile on his face. "Lieutenant," he drawled. "What brings you on over to my neck of the woods? Thought you'd be sittin' with Bill and Joe, ma'am."

M.J. sighed. "'Smokestack McGee' and his friend 'Puffy Mick-Cigarette' over there are having some kind of contest to see who can drive me away faster, I think." She grinned impishly. "But not really. I just can't stand all the damn smoke all the time. And Gene, I told you not to call me 'lieutenant.' And especially not 'ma'am.' It makes me sound so _old_..." She scrunched up her nose, making a face.

Eugene only smiled, leaning back against the truck as it bounced along down the dirt road. "Sorry, ma'am...Er, _Mary_." His cheeks flushed slightly, and he turned away. M.J. just chuckled.

Malarkey, sitting across from the two, grinned cheekily. "Aw, cute," he chirped, to which he promptly got a swift kick in the shins from one annoyed lieutenant. "Ow! Geeze, what was _that _for?"

"For stating the obvious," M.J. said with a wink. "Aw, Eugene, you _are _cute!" She slung her arm around him, and his cheeks turned tomato red as he tried not to awkwardly look in her direction.

"Son of a bitch," Malarkey mumbled. "How come you never call _me _cute? Or give _me _a hug like that?" He folded his arms tightly across his chest, raising one eyebrow as he gave her a 'it's-not-fair' look.

"That's 'cause you're not," Bull joked, leaning in and listening in on the conversation.

"Enter one Bull Randleman. I think that's pretty spot-on," M.J. laughed, beaming brightly. Bull chuckled.

Malarkey still didn't look appeased. "Aw, come on. I'm cute...handsome. Witty, smart...Nice. How come you never hug _me_?" M.J. sighed, leaned forward, and hugged him awkwardly, her arms akimbo as she slung them around his shoulders, trying not to fall down as the truck his a bump. When she let go, she wobbled on her feet, and plunked down back into her seat, where Eugene grabbed her elbow to keep her steady.

"_There_. No more complaining."

"What about a kiss?"

"Bull, smack him for me please?"

_WHACK_.

"Thank you."

M.J. leaned back in her seat, a contented smirk on her face. Eugene leaned over a bit, whispering conspiratorially in her ear. "Looks like you've got the attention of one Sergeant 'Puffy-Mick Cigarette,'" he drawled, dipping his head in the direction M.J. had come from only a few minutes before.

Indeed, it seemed as though Joe's eyes were riveted on her, his brows furrowed as he leaned his arms on his knees to watch the goings-on in the back of the truck. He seemed...Annoyed. Or something similar to it. M.J. frowned, furrowed her own brows, and leaned back in her seat with a huff. "As much as it _annoys _me," M.J. growled. "I think it's worth it just to hear you say 'Puffy-Mick Cigarette,' Gene."

"What?" Eugene asked. "You an' Sarge having a spat or somethin'?" He offered her a puzzled look, to which M.J. promptly replied by turning her back to Joe so she could face the medic.

"I'm so tired of him always watchin' me. Sure, we're pals an' all, but I'm gettin' tired of him always..._Staring_. Always tellin' me I need to _'be careful,' _and stuff. It's not like anything is gonna _happen _to me, you know? I'm a damn lieutenant, and I've survived _this _long." She mimicked Eugene's frown, her eyes flashing. "What? Why are you givin' me that look?"

"Lieutenant...Why did you join the army?"

Caught off guard, M.J. could only stare wide-eyed at Eugene before she found her voice. "Er, well...I guess I joined to do my part. Don't get me wrong an' all, but being a nurse wasn't my thing; at least, I kept telling myself that. Funny how I ended up being one anyway, right?" Upon the look that the young medic gave her, she hastily continued on.

"I wanted to get out and see the world, and I wanted to help. I like the thought of fighting in the war, like you gents did, but...Well, you know they don't really allow that. And I didn't think it'd be...Right, I guess you could say, for me to join the WAAFS or WAACS or anythin'. Didn't seem like I'd be doin' enough. So I met up with Christof, completely by accident, of course. Said he was recruiting 'special people' and said I looked like I needed something to do. So I ended up in K Company. Long story short, I ended up over here, across enemy lines, and then back into American hands. Crazy, huh?"

Eugene whistled softly. "Sure sounds like it. But the way I reckon it, Miss Mary, is that Joe doesn't know all that. He doesn't know how you survived behind enemy lines, or that your _perfectly _capable of takin' care o' yourself. And it looks to me like he's worried; and rightly he should be. It's a war, and war is, - if you'll excuse me here - _hell_. Joe knows it better'n anyone. Don't mistake his protectiveness for smotherin'. He's just worried is all. Why not tell him he don't _have _to worry?"

He leaned back, a smile on his face. "Besides, Mary. I know you worry 'bout him often enough. I reckon there's something there even _you _two don't see."

M.J. blinked, frowned, and leaned back in her seat. "Hey Gene?"

"Hm?"

"Anyone ever tell you that your a genius?"

"No, but it wouldn't hurt to hear it."

* * *

"Hey Joe. Got a minute?"

M.J. sat beside Joe on a rather plush couch Easy Company, along with much of the 101st, had settled into a nice little town in Germany. Landsberg.

Joe glanced over at her, a hand of cards held tightly in his fist. He took a drag from his cigarette, careful to blow the smoke away from her since the last time he'd smoked around her, she'd decided to get up and leave. "Yeah?" he asked, raising one brow curiously.

Babe, Bill and George sat across from Joe and M.J., each occupying their respective chairs, and each with their own hand of cards. Bill mirrored Joe's look, leaning forward with an arm slung across his knee. "What's on yer mind, sweetheart?" he asked, grinning from ear to ear.

M.J. rolled her eyes almost playfully, taking the comment in stride. "That's for me to know, and Joe to find out, Wild Bill," she grumbled, grabbing Joe's sleeve and tugging him up. Joe sighed heavily, and threw down his cards, relenting and allowing himself to be pulled along by a very persistent lieutenant.

"Guess that means I'm out, fellas," he grouched, trudging along after M.J. Bill grinned wickedly.

"All right youz two. But you better be back by curfew, or I'll be out to find yaz. And no kissin'!"

M.J. mock-glared over her shoulder. "I know where you sleep, Wild Bill. Don't you _forget _it."

Bill's laughter could be heard even after they'd gotten outside.

"So, M.J. What's on your mind?"

Joe and M.J. walked along a dark street, lit only by the moonlight that penetrated through the small opening between buildings and into the square. M.J. had her hands in her pockets, and Joe had his rifle slung across her back.

"I been thinkin', Joe," she said, starting off slowly, almost conversationally.

Joe blinked. "Did it hurt?" he asked, smiling in the dark. M.J. punched him lightly in the arm.

"A little," she said, her own smile mimicking his. "But beside the point...Joe...Can I ask you a question?"

Joe tilted his head, his helmet bobbing off to the side. He reached up and removed it, noting that M.J. hadn't brought hers with her. "All right. Shoot." He paused, then seemed to rethink it. "Not _literally _of course."

M.J.'s smile wavered slightly, before she turned away, staring hard at the ground. "Well, you and I are pals, right?"

"Right."

"And we look out for one another, right?"

"Right..."

"And you think of me like you think of Bill, right? Like a friend?"

"..."

M.J. looked up at him. He hadn't responded, and was, instead staring hard at her.

"Not..._Exactly_," he replied, almost uneasily.

M.J. lifted an eyebrow, her face going from nervous, to anxious, to confused all at once. It made Joe a little dizzy to look at, and he had to turn away. He knew his cheeks were probably beet red, and he was thankful for the darkness.

"I don't exactly think of you like _that_...I...I dunno _how _I think of you. One minute, you make me happier than a jay bird, and the next, I just wanna bop you on the head for bein' so stupid." He grinned cheekily, finally turning back to face her. "You do some pretty _stupid stuff _for an Intelligence officer, you know."

M.J. was blushing furiously; Joe was surprised that he could see it in the dark. But her face was illuminated by the silver light of the moon. "But...But besides that," she squeaked, sounding anxious. "You...You think anything _else _about me?"

Joe paused, and fell silent. He stared at her for a very long time. What was this all about? Why was she asking him these questions all of a sudden? Maybe...Had someone _said _something to her? Oh, he was gonna smack Bill a good one for letting the cat out of the bag. But while he was _here_, stuck in this moment, he'd just say to _hell _with it all. He shrugged.

"Fuck it."

Reaching out, he pulled M.J. forward, his lips crashing down on hers in a desire-filled, heat-of-the-moment kiss. She smelled like smoke, and oranges and something that was genuinely and purely 'M.J.' He felt her respond to the kiss, felt her wrap her arms around his neck and pull him closer as she deepened it willingly. He grinned victoriously in the back of his mind, whooping for joy.

But just as quickly as it had started, the kiss ended, and M.J. pulled away roughly. She stared hard at Joe, and something glistened in her eyes. He was alarmed to see tears forming and then trailing their way down her cheeks. He reached for her, his face awash with guilt, fear, and confusion. But M.J. backed away, shaking her head as if in denial, and fled off into the night.

Joe stood there, in the dark street, dumbfounded.

What had he done _wrong_?

* * *

M.J. rushed back into the house, desperately wiping the last few traces of the tears from her cheeks and eyes. The men called a greeting, some asking where Joe was, but M.J. just hurried into one of the unoccupied rooms; the one she'd been designated all to herself.

Bill, not one to be easily fooled, had immediately noticed something was up. M.J. just didn't act like that. Something had gone on, and he intended to find _out_. So, curiosity ablaze, he got up from his chair, throwing in his hand in the latest card game, and headed towards her room. When he got to the door, he rapped on it lightly with his knuckles.

"'Ey there, sweetheart. You okay?"

There was no response. Bill tried again.

"M.J.? What's wrong, kiddo?"

Still, no response.

Not one to let a sleeping dog lie, Bill turned the knob until the door clicked open. M.J. sat on one of the lavish armchairs, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands. She was silent and unmoving, and the only sign that she was alive was the steady rise and fall of her back as she breathed in and out. Bill quietly made his way across the room.

"Ya all right, kid?" he asked, reaching out to lay a hand on her shoulder. M.J. jerked, and twisted away. "Come on, Em. Talk to ol' Bill for a minute. What's goin' on?" He reached down and gently turned her towards him. He was surprised to see how red her eyes were. She looked like she'd been crying; but his M.J. was too _tough _for that.

Wasn't she?

"Bill," she choked out. "I don't know what happened. I think I might've _hurt_ Joe, but...But I don't know what to do."

Alarm flashed across Bill's face, before M.J. elaborated. "Not hurt, physically. I...I mean...Oh, I don't _know_ what I mean." She buried her face in her hands again, taking deep, shuddering breaths. Bill wrapped a comforting arm around her.

"You go on an' tell me. I'll see if I can't fix this problem o' yours."

M.J. sucked in a ragged breath, lifting her head to face Bill once more. "I...Joe and I...I don't know. I...I talked to Eugene the other day and it got me to thinking. The way Joe treats me, the way he looks at me, the way he acts around me, the way I feel about him...I just thought that...I dunno what I thought. I guess maybe I was thinkin' he...He _felt_ something for _me_...All the signs were there! We-we almost kissed, for God's sake, when we were back in Hagenau!"

Her eyes grew wide, almost doe-like, and so frightened that it almost scared Bill half to death. "I was _right_! But...But what if I ruin our _friendship_? I've never felt anything for anyone before, Bill, not like _this_. It's scaring me. I don't know what to _do_. He...he kissed me, and I ran away. I ran away because I'm too _God damn _scared to face him...I don't know what to do. I...I've never loved anyone, and I've never been in any kind of relationship. I can't _deal _with it...I just don't know how. And Joe's my friend. I could ruin this, ruin _us_."

She motioned frantically towards the wall, as if Joe was standing right beside her. She let her face fall back into her palms, her words muffled. "Damn Eugene. I shouldn't have listened to him. I shouldn't have tried to talk to Joe. I should've left it all how it was, and we all could've gone on bein' nothin' but friends. Now Joe probably thinks I _hate _him, and...And I _don't_! And that's what _scares_ me, Bill!"

M.J. looked up at him frantically, pleading for help with her eyes. Bill wasn't too good on dealing with relationships, but he was sure he had a good idea what was going on. Joe had feelings for M.J. She returned those feelings. But said feelings frightened her, and made her turn away because she didn't want to lose a friend.

"It's all right, sweetheart," he soothed, pulling her close as he leaned down in front of her. "Now, you listen here. Joe don't think you hate him; in fact, if you explained this all to him, he'd probably understand. Now, I've never been in this situation before, but here's all I can tell you to do; talk to him, and don't be afraid of what youz two feel for one another. No matter what happens, Joe and I, well, we'll always be your pals. You got that? Just keep your chin up kid, and face this head on. Shit, I've seen you take on much, much worse without even _blinkin_'. Don't tell me a little emotions got you all lily-livered?"

M.J. smiled shakily, punching him playfully in the arm. "Wild Bill, you give some damn good advice...but I...I don't think I can face Joe. not right now. Maybe...Maybe in a few days. Just...Could you maybe keep him busy for a while? I don't feel like talkin' this thing out yet..."

Bill smiled. Well, it was a start. "Anythin' for you, princess."

M.J. suddenly looked up at him and blinked, a grin spreading across her tear streaked face. "Hey Bill...Guess we kissed after all, huh?"

* * *

The next couple of days, Bill kept Joe as occupied as possible with as many trivial, meaningless tasks as he could find. This didn't sit well with Joe, who was ready to throttle his friend if he didn't let up with all the annoying petty little jobs and give Joe some time to talk to M.J. He had no idea it was all a ploy to keep him away from her for a while.

This was punctuated by the discovery of a Nazi Concentration camp. It was something that no man or woman there would ever forget. M.J. stayed away; as far away as _possible_.

She'd been behind enemy lines, close to German officers, and secreting away valuable information for years. But she'd never, _ever _seen or heard of anything like that. She cursed herself inwardly; if she hadn't been so fixated on locating the maps, charts, and positions that she deemed 'important,' she might've caught wind of some info about those camps.

Either way, M.J. felt even worse than she had before. She was dreading talking to Joe, but she knew she had to. It'd been quite a few days, and Bill told her Joe wasn't his normal self anymore. M.J. was sure it was her fault.

Well...Time to face the music.

"Joe?"

M.J. peered cautiously into his room, where he sat stiffly on the small bed he'd been designated. His head jerked up sharply at her voice, and his eyes seemed to brighten a little bit.

M.J. nervously wrung her hands in front of her, dancing from one foot to the other as she stood on the threshold of the room. "Can...Can I come in?"

Joe nodded curtly, scooting over to make room for her to sit beside him. M.J. did so carefully, her movements slow and timid. Joe couldn't help but notice that she looked like she was ready to bolt. He kept his gaze straight ahead, his muscles barely twitching for fear of scaring her off.

"Joe...Look...I'm-I'm sorry about the other night."

Joe hastily cut her off. "No, no. It's my fault. I shouldn't have been so forward. I know you probably don't feel the same way but...But I just thought _maybe_..." He fell silent, until he felt a tentative hand on his arm.

"No. It's _my _fault Joe." M.J. shook her head when he looked like he was about to protest, and her eyes hardened as she gave him a _'let-me-talk' _stare. "Look...I'm sorry I left you there. I didn't mean to...Run off like that. It's just...I don't know how to deal with this...With...With _feeling _this way." She paused at the hopeful look in Joe's eyes. "I don't do emotions very well. And I...I don't want this to ruin our friendship. But I...Feel the same way about you, Joe."

She looked at him meaningfully, and Joe reached out to grasp her hand.

"You feel the _same_?" he asked, almost dumbfounded. "But you've been avoiding me for days. And when you ran off...I thought I'd done something wrong. I thought _I _ruined our friendship...And for good. Look, M.J." He shifted slightly, so he was facing her.

"It _won't _ruin our friendship. I promise. No matter what happens, we'll always be pals. But...But I want more than that. You and me..."

M.J. let out a sigh, rolling her eyes as she smiled playfully. "Geeze, Joe. Your startin' to sound like some corny romance novel. Leave some o' that for me why dontcha?" She flashed him a bright smile. "Now shut up and just kiss me, idiot."

* * *

It had taken her nearly an entire week before she'd been able to stop and take a real shower.

Maybe shower wasn't the right word.

M.J. finally had the chance to relax. Things had been sorted out, or at least, from her perspective they had, between her and Joe, and she was finally able to let her mind and body relax and stop worrying about everything around her.

That was the day she finally managed to get the warm water working in the tub upstairs that she had, thus far, been unaware of. She blamed George for not telling her, since she was billeted on the first floor, and he was on the second. It wasn't his fault, of course, but it felt good to give him a bit of good-natured grief about it after being called 'princess' for the past few months.

M.J. practically melted just looking at the warm, water filled tub. She dipped a hand in, swirling the water around and grimacing when it came away a bit dirty. Dear God and all that was holy, she was filthy! Her mother would've had a heart attack on the spot if she could see her 'baby-girl' now.

With a low sigh, M.J. stripped (Or rather, peeled, as it felt like to her) the grimy uniform she'd been wearing for a while off, and let it drop in a heap on the floor. She felt exposed without her uniform, and after peeling her underclothes off, she hastily stepped into the tub.

Like the cold, cold day so long ago when she'd stepped into the German commander's fire-warmed office, M.J. felt her entire body relax as she sagged beneath the warm water, submerging herself under and watching as the bubbles rippled along the surface of the water. She closed her eyes, savoring the feeling, and then surfaced.

She wanted to savor the warmth for a few minutes before she had to scrub herself clean, but the dirt and grime that felt like it was caked on was just too much, and she began to scrub furiously with a small bar of soap she'd 'commandeered' from Dick when she couldn't find one of her own. She felt a grim sense of satisfaction at finally getting clean for real; no more washing her arms and hands in cold water and changing uniforms to try and 'feel' clean. She really was clean.

Another sigh slipped from her lips and she sunk back into the water, letting the soap drop to the floor. She felt clean, relaxed, and for the first time, she didn't have to worry about something barging in and ruining her time to herself.

Or so she believed.

After a good half hour, the water began to cool, and M.J. reluctantly dragged herself out of the tub. She reached for the towel she had brought in with her, and wrapped it around her frame, shivering slightly at the brief chill that seeped into her wet skin from the draft beneath the door.

She was just about to reach down to grab her clean, new uniform, when the door was pushed open, and in stepped Bill. He was talking to someone over his shoulder, but froze when he turned and his eyes locked on M.J.

M.J. was frozen as well, halfway to reaching for her uniform, covered in only a towel. Bill's eyes traveled down, and then up, and then down again as he took in her towel-clad form, before he was suddenly knocked in the head with a bar of soap.

"GOD DAMN IT BILL!"

The screech, of course, brought more than a few guys running to see what the problem was. And they, invariably, stumbled on the scene.

"Whoa!" George cried from over bill's shoulder as M.J. chucked one of her boots in their direction. "What's going on here, and why wasn't I invited?"

Perconte ducked under Bill's arm to take a peek and see what all the ruckus was about for himself. "Holy, hell!" he whistled, grinning from ear to ear. "What's goin' on?"

Joe, of course, had come running the second he'd heard M.J.'s yell. What he found when he got there, though, did not sit well with him, at all. Bill was frozen stock still in the same position, staring with wide eyes at M.J., who was wielding one of her boots and managed to chuck it at George, who ducked and wolf-whistled as he and Frank tried to catch a peek of the 'show.'

"Hey!" Joe shouted, and the three men at the door seized up, before Frank and George took off running.

"See ya Bill!" they shouted over their shoulders, leaving the man to his fate.

"What the hell is going on?" Joe asked as he grabbed Bill's shoulder, intent on seeing for himself what had happened. Of course, he hadn't counted on being hit smack dab in the face with a canteen. "Son of a bitch!" he cried, gripping his nose in pain. "What the hell was that fo-"

He too, froze when he saw what Bill had been staring at.

M.J., by this time, was blushing from head to toe, holding part of her clean uniform and her towel over her in a weak attempt to keep the 'peep show' to a minimum. "God damn it Joe! Would you two get out of here! I am not some cheap floozy you can ogle all day long, ya know!"

Joe had to work really hard to get his brain back in functioning order, and by that time, he realized that Bill was still staring. He smacked his friend upside the head, startling him out of his trance, and immediately dragged him out the door. "Sorry, M.J.!" Joe shouted, feeling his cheeks heating up with a blush of his own. Bill was grinning even as the door was slammed in his face.

"Don't think I won't get you guys for this!" M.J. shouted through the door, before she proceeded to angrily pull on her underclothes and uniform, intent on reeking havoc and revenge on the peeping toms.

Outside, Bill was trying not to giggle like a madman, and Joe was trying very hard not to think about the image of M.J. in just a towel that he was absolutely certain would be imprinted in the back of his mind for the rest of his life. Bill's whistle broke him out of his reverie.

"Damn Joe. You're one lucky bastard. Just think, if you play your cards right, you get to look forward to that every day when you get back home. Except without the towel." He wiggled his eyebrows, and Joe blushed so dark, he was sure he could give a tomato a run for its money.

"Jesus, Bill. What the hell do you think you were doing, barging in on her like that?" Joe asked hotly, his embarrassed flush giving way to a rise of anger and annoyance.

Bill held up his hands. "Whoa, whoa. Easy there. I was just goin' in there ta take a bath of my own. I had no idea it was occupado. She didn't lock the damn door. I didn't mean ta-"

"Finish that sentence, sergeant."

Both men froze at the sound of the voice behind them as the door was swung open, emitting a very cross looking lieutenant in it's wake. "Did you get a good look?" Bill and Joe both went rigid almost instantly, hands going to their brows in an automatic salute.

"No ma'am," Bill said haltingly, before M.J.'s look of fury shifted into one of devious amusement.

"Aw geeze. Next time, why don't you knock, Bill? Then I won't have to smack ya a good one."

Bill looked confused as both he and Joe relaxed. "Whatdya mean?" he asked curiously. "You didn't sm-"

_WHACK!_

* * *

**A/N: **DONE! Damn. Next chapter should be out soon. I...Didn't go into detail about the camps. Didn't want to. But I did get some relationships goin'! Haha! Finally! Anywho, this story shouldn't have much farther to go. At least, I hope it doens't.


	9. Recon

**Author's Note: **Update, update! I'm gonna be trying to finish this story this weekend, as quickly as I can. You guys deserve it! I hope you enjoy the end of it as much as I enjoy writing it. I love the reviews; it's you guys that keep me going and keep me confident in my writing abilities. I love you guys!

**Quote of the Day: "**Oh, I have every confidence in my scrounging abilities, and I have a case of Vat '69 hidden in your footlocker." -Nixon

**Title: **Just One Word

**Rating: **T (PG-13) Yeah. For language, death and probably violence. But mostly language and death.

**Summary: **An unknown solider. Tossed aside, she was forgotten. It would have been nice to know some one cared…And even though she was surrounded by a company of men, she was so very alone…

**Disclaimer: **Since these are real people, I own nothing but my characters. This story is purely fictional, and I hope no one is offended by it. Thank you.

**Chapter 9:** Recon

"Sooo…Berchtesgaden, huh?"

"Oh shut up, you barely know what that is."

M.J. shot a grinning Bill a half amused glance from her place beside Joe in the truck. The rickety roads and the altitude were making her dizzy, and she'd practically wedged herself between the two sergeants to keep from being jostled all over the place.

"I take offense ta that," Bill replied with a wounded air that was purely for show.

"Bill, you take offense to _most _things," she quipped, leaning back against the side of the truck. Joe glanced at her quickly, but soon averted his gaze elsewhere. It wasn't like the two of them were some big secret, but he didn't want anyone getting any ideas about him and M.J. and he certainly didn't need anyone sticking their noses into their business. It was just kind of hard to maintain a semblance of privacy in a place where you were constantly surrounded by people.

"So, what do you think we'll find up there?" Joe began quietly, hoping to distract himself from thoughts of M.J., which proved to be somewhat difficult when she was pressed flush against his side the way she was. He hadn't really had that much of a problem with it before, but with a shift in the dynamics of their relationship, every little touch or gesture was suddenly worth so much more to him.

"I have no idea," M.J. admitted, sounding faintly put out. "And I'm not used to _not _knowing things. I couldn't even begin to imagine what it's like up there. It's like…Nazi central, ya know? You can only be a true Nazi to live there. And-"

She was cut off by the truck rumbling to such an abrupt stop, she nearly tumbled into Bill's lap.

"Whoa there!" he laughed, before he hauled himself to his feet to look over the cab of the truck. A few of the other men in the company were doing the same, everyone straining to see what the hold up was. "What's goin' on up there?" Bill queried, but received no reply.

A few of the men piled out off the truck, noting that men behind and in front of them were doing the same. M.J. followed suit, grabbing Joe's hand briefly before she leapt off the back of the truck, and began jogging towards the front, the two sergeants in tow.

"S'goin' on, gentlemen?" M.J. called as she reached the jeep Nixon and Winters were leaning against. They were staring at a rather…._large _road block ahead of them. Maybe large was an understatement. _Gigantic_, _huge _and _impenetrable _were a few other terms that came to mind. "Whoa. _That _must be the hold up," she said with a laugh, folding her arms to gaze at it thoughtfully.

Already, a few of the men had jogged ahead to place some TNT and grenades along the base of the gigantic rubble infrastructure. M.J., Joe, Bill, Nixon and Winters watched passively as the rocks exploded, but stayed firmly put. "You call the engineers?" Bill asked, pulling a cigarette from his front pocket and lighting it up.

"Yeah," Nixon sighed, looking faintly annoyed. "Doesn't mean they'll be getting here anytime soon."

And he was right. Nearly two hours later, the engineers still hadn't arrived. Easy Company and the other men lounged around the trucks and along the road, some reading, some writing, and some staring off into space and relaxing in the sunlight, glad of a reprieve from having to do much of anything.

M.J., Joe and Bill were leaned up against one of the trucks, chatting about trivial things, when Colonel Sink drove by in his jeep. M.J.'s head snapped up, and she cast Joe a worried look. "Ain't gonna be lougin' around much longer," she decided cryptically, hauling her rifle up over her shoulder. 

* * *

She was right.

The drive into Berchtesgaden was about as uneventful as it could get.

"Where is everyone?" Eugene Roe murmured from beside M.J. The medic was clutching his bag to his side, as if afraid it could be ripped from his hands at any moment. M.J. glanced from the bag, to Gene's face, and chuckled softly. Even that small sound was enough to send the Cajun medic jumping a bit.

"Probably dead. Or, if they were smart, they got out of here real quick. You gotta be a true Nazi to live here, so there'd be no denying it for them. And I can't imagine they'd think we'd go easy on them once we got here, ya know? If I was them, I'da hoofed it a long time ago." She patted his shoulder, and the medic nodded, looking faintly relieved to hear that.

"Sure left a lot of stuff behind though," she quipped thoughtfully, and Gene shot her an amused look when he saw her eyeing a particularly ornate piece of furniture through one of the large, lavish windows.

"Don't reckon you could mail a couch home, Mary," he said with a small laugh. "-but I'm sure you of all people could give it a try. Why don't we have a look around? I could use someone with a gun taggin' along with me. Don't wanna get into any trouble, no matter how deserted this place looks. Ain't no tellin' who or what is really left 'round here."

M.J. found she really couldn't agree more. Bill and Joe had already traveled to the front of the pack to check things out, so she imagined they wouldn't miss her if she went exploring. "Hey Luz, Perconte, Bull. Why don't ya'll tag along with us?" M.J. called to the three men nearest to them. "We're gonna do some recon."

"Recon?" Luz repeated, looking amused as a wide grin stretched across his face. "That a fancy word for 'looting,' lieutenant?" Perco laughed outwardly, and Bull just chuckled his deep, warm laugh.

"Why, Luz, I'm surprised at you. Thinkin' I could do such a thing…But yeah, fancy word for 'lets go see if there's anything in there that might be valuable and small enough to fit in our bags.'"

"I like the way the lady thinks," Luz told Frank, elbowing him in the ribs.

M.J. and her small contingent of men broke of from the main group, following suit with a few others who were doing 'recon' of their own. M.J. was kinda thankful for that; she didn't feel like so much of a heel if others were doing the same thing.

"How about that one?" M.J. pointed with her rifle, indicating the house she'd seen the nice couch in right before they decided to break off from the group. A round of nods from the others had them carefully maneuvering their way into the house.

It was eerily silent inside. There was no movement, no sound, and no one home. Well, no one but the officer who'd shot himself on the living room floor, but other than that, it was empty. M.J. lowered her rifle and stared down at the deceased officer, frowning thoughtfully. She didn't know him and she was thankful for that; she wasn't sure she ever wanted to be associated with the people who lived in this particular town, nor did she want to feel pity or sympathy towards them. It didn't sit well with her.

Gene quietly sidled up beside her, and joined her in gazing down at the officer. She could hear the others moving about the house, random exclamations of 'all clear' or 'look what I found!' filling the silence.

"Reckon he didn't want to be found," Eugene said quietly, his dark eyes lifting to search her own.

"Reckon he didn't," M.J. agreed, slinging her M-1 over her shoulder. "I wouldn't have if I were him. I can't imagine any of these people had much hope left, not after what's happened. It's a terrible thing, Gene, to die without hope. That's not something I'd wish on anyone, even the enemy. You gotta believe in something, and if they couldn't believe in their leader, I don't imagine they had much else left."

"Too bad he was crazy," the quiet medic agreed, his eyes dropping once more to the body on the floor. "'Spose it was better than us findin' him alive though. Least this way, he had a choice."

"Yeah, right."

Silently, Gene moved to grab an afghan off the back of a lavish sofa. The blanket was finely stitched, and looked hand made and lovingly crafted. M.J. might have admired the handiwork at some other time, but now it was nothing more than a sheet to cover the dead. Gene leaned down and closed the sightless eyes, draping the blanket over the body, and standing up to wipe his hands on his pants.

"Sometimes, even the enemy needs a little compassion," he said quietly, as if feeling he had to explain his actions. M.J. stared at him silently, the barest traces of a fond smile quirking the corners of her lips. "After all, we're all human in the end, ain't we?"

She sighed, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. "Sometimes, I wonder about that, Gene. The things I've seen, and the things I've seen done…they don't seem like nothin' no human would do. But I guess it's a part of war. It changes us all, for better or for worse. Ain't nothin' we can do about that, in the long run. But enough talkin' all philosophical like. Let's you and me take a look around. The others will have this place gutted and cleaned dry before we can so much as _look _at something shiny."

Gene chuckled, and the two moved away from the body in the living room to peruse the house, every once in a while commenting on some strange item, or stopping to point something out that someone back home might like, or like to have.

They ended up in one of the upstairs rooms, and from the smell of the perfume that lingered and the looks of it, the room had once belonged to a woman. Gene silently regarded the paintings on the wall with a keen interest, enthralled by the beauty of the portraits and the landscapes. M.J., however, had gotten distracted by a small box on the dresser.

She inched closer, as though afraid the little box might lash out at her, and gently lifted it into her hands. When she opened the lid, a soft, melodious tune drifted out, and Gene turned and moved over to stand beside her when he heard it. The two were enthralled by the sound; such a simple, beautiful tune, but the likes of which neither had heard in a very long, long time.

"Wouldja look at that," Gene breathed, pointing to what lay inside the box. There were small, elegant rings of all kinds. Some with emeralds, some with diamonds, some gold encrusted, and all beautifully made.

"Wow," M.J. breathed. Never having been one for fancy things, she had to admit that even she was quite taken by the jewelry in the box. "Tell you what, Gene," she began, smiling wickedly. "Why don't you pick a couple out and take them home to your gal."

Gene blushed fiercely, and ducked his head. "No, Mary, I couldn't do that. You found 'em first. They're yours."

M.J. clucked her teeth, and shook her head. "Like I would ever be caught wearin' a bunch o' these. Now Eugene, you can't tell me you don't got a girl at home waitin' on ya. And you certainly can't tell me you don't wanna give her the best. Look at these rings, Gene. You won't come across somethin' like this in a hundred years. Take a few. Whichever ones you want. And I'll keep the rest and the box for myself. I like the pretty music, not the pretty rings."

Silently, Eugene agreed, a wide grin on his face as he sorted through them and picked out the few he knew his gal back home would appreciate.

* * *

"Where ya been?"

M.J. jogged up to Joe and Bill, who stood outside the new company HQ that had been 'commandeered' specifically for Sink. She had her rifle slung over her shoulder, and patted the bag at her side. "Just explorin'. I went treasure hunting."

"Find anything good?" Bill asked with a grin, and M.J. smiled back.

"Lots of good things, yeah, but I could only carry so much. Unfortunately, as I found out, I can't exactly fit a couch in this bag, so I had to leave some stuff behind."

Joe chuckled, shaking his head. "And we'll probably never hear the end of it, will we?" he asked, ignoring the way his heart sped up when M.J. smiled at him with those big bright eyes of hers. He wondered if he'd ever get over the thrill of excitement he felt when she turned her gaze onto him.

Bill cast his friend an amused glance, sharp eyes catching the barest hint of a change in Joe's face, before he slung his rifle up over his shoulder. "Well youz two. I hear they're going to be headin' up to the Eagle's Nest. I'm gonna tag along with them. Why don't you get comfy and situated here, and I'll be back down to check on you later. No funny business, ya hear?" He laughed raucously at the blush that spread almost immediately across both of his friends' faces, and turned around to catch up with the jeep that was already piled high with Easy company men who wanted to be the first to the Eagle's Nest.

"'No funny business,'" M.J. huffed once he was gone. "Who does he think he's talking to? I swear, that man…" But when she glanced over at Joe, his face had gotten quite serious, and she swallowed the rest of her sentence with a strangled sound. "Joe?" she asked quietly, peering at him from beneath long lashes.

"Why don't we go for a walk?" Joe began, blinking his eyes as if snapping himself out of a deep thought process. M.J. looked surprised, but nodded with a smile as the two turned almost simultaneously and began an easy stroll through the partly deserted streets. A few men still milled about, excluding the ones who were busy setting up HQ, and they paid them little mind.

M.J. still wore her hat whenever possible, and her curly mop of hair peeked out from beneath the rim over her dirt smudged cheeks. She looked more like a short soldier than a pretty girl, and she was quite happy to let people keep on believing that was exactly what she was. She didn't need any more attention than she already got. Besides, she didn't think Joe would take to that too kindly.

"What's on yer mind, Joe?" M.J. asked brightly, bouncing along beside him with the air of someone who hadn't a care in the world. Joe glanced at her, wondering exactly how it was that she could read him so well. She and Bill always seemed to know exactly what he was thinking, even when he didn't say a word. As unnerving as it could sometimes be, he had to say he was grateful for it, especially at times like this, when even he wasn't sure what he was going to say or how to say it.

"Well, I've been thinking…"

M.J. scrunched up her nose. "Did it hurt?" she asked, repeating a line he'd used with her the night they'd first kissed. She was feeling a strange sense of déjà vu.

"A little," Joe chuckled, but his face instantly went back into it's serious mask. "Anyway, I've been thinking a lot. About you, about me, about this whole thing. But most importantly, I've been thinking about what's gonna happen when we get back home."

M.J.'s smile froze on her face, and her gaze instantly darted to her feet, suddenly finding the cobblestone street much more interesting than the man beside her. "What do you mean, Joe?" she asked almost haltingly, as if afraid to hear his answer. "Nothing's gonna change, you know. Not really."

Joe frowned darkly, and kicked a stone across the street, arms folded over his broad chest. "That's just it, M.J. Things _will _be different. We won't be soldiers anymore; you'll be a woman, and I'll be a man. We'll both have to go back to being what we're supposed to be. And I don't know about you, but that's gonna be mighty hard for me to do if…if you're not gonna be there with me."M.J. sucked in a large gulp of air, feeling her heart skip a beat in her chest. " Who says I won't be there with you?" she began slowly, chancing a glance up at him from the corner of her eye. She saw shock, and elation and partial sadness written across the normally unexpressive face. "What makes you think I'm gonna up and leave you?"

"I just thought…I have my family, you have yours. I never really thought of you as a woman out here, not until after that night we first kissed. Then I started seeing you in a whole different light, and I couldn't imagine not being by your side. You're so different, M.J. You're not like any woman I've ever met, and all the others…well, they're dull compared to you. You're intelligent, funny, sweet, and you have one hell of a right hook. And even if I think of you as a woman, I still think of you as one of my pals, like Bill. I can laugh and joke with you, and be myself. I've never been able to do that with anyone else."

He took a deep breath as their feet took them around the side of a building, to a deserted alleyway. "I guess what I'm trying to say is…I don't want to think of a life without you. I don't _want _a life without you. So…"

M.J. felt her breath catch in her throat when Joe suddenly dipped out of her line of sight and she pivoted on her heel to see him kneeling in front of her, dark eyes staring up at her with an unreadable expression. "Will you marry me?"

"You big idiot," M.J. grumbled, feeling unwanted tears prick at the corner of her eyes. She hastily wiped them away, lest he see and use it as fodder for a later joke. "Of course I will."

**A/N: **Well, there it is, ladies and germs. Now, onto the next chapter!

**Next Chapter: **Some much needed R& R, and some time for everyone to 'adjust.'


	10. Beaches and Castaways

**Author's Note: **Oh look, another update! We're almost done, guys.

**Quote of the Day: **

"Toye, are you missing something?"

"Home."

**Title: **Just One Word

**Rating: **T (PG-13) Yeah. For language, death and probably violence. But mostly language and death.

**Summary: **An unknown solider. Tossed aside, she was forgotten. It would have been nice to know some one cared…And even though she was surrounded by a company of men, she was so very alone…

**Disclaimer: **Since these are real people, I own nothing but my characters. This story is purely fictional, and I hope no one is offended by it. Thank you.

**Chapter 10:** Beaches and Castaways

Zell Am Zee in Austria was one of the most beautiful places any of them had ever seen.

No one had really wanted to leave the Eagle's Nest or Berchtesgaden, until they saw Austria, of course.

But it wasn't as if there was a sudden army-wide vacation. Just because their location was beautiful, didn't mean they were off duty. Many of the men were stuck in Europe because they didn't have enough points to go home, and they were delegated to tasks such as directing refugees, resettlement efforts and accepting the surrender of the German Troops.

For some, tensions and old hatreds were hard to forget, and there were squabbles and skirmishes among the surrendered Germans and some of the American soldiers. But for the most part, it was peaceful.

From time to time, bad things would happen; Private Janovic was killed in a car accident, and Sergeant Grant was shot in the head by an inebriated man. But for the most part, things went along smoothly.

The men of easy even fixed a lottery held to give the points necessary to send a man home so that Shifty Powers could return to the U.S. An auto accident kept him from returning on time, but he eventually made it back home in one piece.

Joe and M.J., however, hadn't told anyone, including Bill, of what had transpired at Berchtesgaden. Both seemed content to carry on the way they had been and neither felt it was the time nor place to air their 'big news' to the world, or at least to the Company. Besides, they liked their privacy, or at least, what little of it they could get.

"Guess what?"

Joe had the air knocked out of him as he was practically tackled out of his chair by a flying M.J. Bill stared a the two for a moment, before he burst into uncontrollable laughter. "Man, Joe, I knew she had ya whipped, but that's just ridiculous!"

"Hey Bill?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

M.J. scowled from where she sat on the floor, practically smothering Joe beneath her. "Knock it off you two; I actually _do _have something to tell you, you know."

"All right, princess, what is it?" Bill asked, leaning forward a bit in his chair. M.J.'s scowl deepened at the nickname, but she let it pass.

"Okay, so, you know how there's that big lake right?"

"Yeah."

"And you know how everyone around here is always doing drills and stuff to prepare for the launch over to the pacific?"

"Yeah…"

"Well guess what?"

"What?"

"We got a day off. We're going swimming. At the 'beach.'"

Bill grinned widely. "No shit? How'd that happen?" M.J. shrugged innocently, looking faintly amused.

"Dunno, but it sure will be nice. Don't get me wrong; showers are great and all, but nothing beats a nice swim in the sunshine. Right?"

"Well, if we get to see you in a bathing suit, I think we'll all be fine and dandy, eh?"

This time, it wasn't M.J. who scowled, but Joe. "You keep them rovin' eyes to yourself, Wild Bill," he grumbled, folding his arms tightly where he still sat beneath an overly amused lieutenant.

"Besides," M.J. continued for him. "No way I'm gonna be caught dead in some stupid swimsuit. You'll just have to settle for some borrowed PT gear and be content with that."

"Youz two take all the fun out of everything."

* * *

PT gear, Joe decided, could burn in hell and rot there for the rest of eternity.

Even his open glares and growls were doing very little to deter the men who'd ventured down to join in the swim from staring at M.J. She was a woman after all, and even if she was taken (And everyone was well aware of this fact) they couldn't help but stare dazedly and grin like idiots.

The shorts were a size too big, and the snug fitting tank top that was usually worn under her fatigues really did nothing to hide…anything. At all. Not that it was lewd or anything. She couldn't help that the water did funny things to the color white, and to her credit, she did cover her top half with a towel once Joe had quietly told her he wasn't too keen on the color of her shirt.

He was currently teaching Bill the meaning of 'keep your eyes to yourself' in the manner of dunking him under and seeing how long he could hold his breath, while M.J. sat on the beach, basking in the warm sun, and wrapped in a large, fluffy towel. She barely noticed Eugene as he settled down next to her, looking all too amused at the antics of the two sergeants and the men cheering or egging them on.

"How's it goin' Eugene?" M.J. asked, cracking open one eye to smile over at the soft-spoken medic.

"It's goin'," he drawled, leaning back on his hands. "What's goin' on here? Are they having some sort of contest?"

M.J. snorted, and opened both eyes, chancing a look at the scene playing out in the shallows of the lake. Bill currently had Joe in a headlock, and it looked like they were having more fun than doing any harm. "Yeah, a contest to see how stupid you can be," she muttered. "Something about me wearing these clothes and other guys bein' able to see me, or something along those lines. If you ask me, I deserve a little bit of freedom after all this. Can't even go for a swim without someone getting' their pants tied up in knots."

Gene smiled secretly, and M.J. cast him a suspicious look. "What?"

"Nothing. Just wondering about you and the sergeant, is all."

"Who, me and Joe? What about us?" M.J. plucked at the edge of her towel a little nervously, a fact that hadn't escaped Gene's sharp gaze.

"Well, I imagine there's been a shift in your relationship at some point. I can see the way ya'll look at one another. And beggin' your pardon, but it looks like you two are a mite bit closer than before."

"Yeah, you could say that," M.J. said with an amused shrug. "You could say we're engaged, although I don't even really know what to call it. I've never been this far in any relationship before…heck, I haven't even had a real relationship before. I guess it's nice to know it ain't some war time fancy that'll fade once we get back home. How about you?" At Gene's questioning look, and smiled, and nudged his shoulder with her own. "You send one o' them rings back to that gal of yours?"

Gene blushed so darkly, she was quite confident that comparing him to a tomato wouldn't even do him justice. "W-well, I did, an I'm just waitin' on her reply, is all. I sure do hope it didn't get lost in the mail."

"Aw, Gene, don't you worry 'bout it. I'm sure you'll get a reply in no time with a great big ol' YES!" She laughed loudly at the blush that once more darkened his cheeks, and failed to notice that Joe's attention was now focused on her instead of Bill.

Joe trudged back up the beach, looking flushed and faintly annoyed, though he still smiled down at M.J. "What's goin' on here?" he asked, raising a brow. "Should I be jealous of all the attention you're getting?"

"Nah," M.J. waved him off. "Gene and I were just talking about matters of the heart." Her gaze followed him as he flopped down in the soft sand beside her.

"Matters of the heart?" Joe asked quietly, his gaze searching her face. M.J. merely smiled reassuringly, and Joe nodded silently, as though taking that as a good enough answer. The three of them looked up when a shadow blotted out the sun.

"Hey Joe, mind if I borrow M.J.?" Bill asked, before he bent down and, without waiting for an answer, scooped a startled M.J. up and threw her over the shoulder. She shrieked, the sound accompanied by the barks of laughter from the men, including Eugene and Joe, as Bill waded out into the water.

"I swear, Bill, if you throw me in I'm gonna-"

"Too late!"

Needless to say, M.J. spent the next hour or so teaching Bill the meaning of 'woman's wrath.'

* * *

M.J. grumbled all the way back to her quarters.

She'd left Bill and Joe to 'duke it out' so to speak, about whether or not throwing her in the water was a good idea. After a goodbye to the rest of the guys, and a clipped farewell to her fiancé and his friend, she'd begun trudging back along the path, shivering in wet PT gear and a towel.

On the way there, however, she ran into some trouble. Well, perhaps not _trouble _per say, but M.J. saw it as trouble. And it came in the form of tittering girls and sidelong glances, coupled with some snarky remarks.

"Hello!"

M.J. turned slightly as a trio of women called out to her on the side of the path. She glanced up the dirt walkway, then back to the women, and decided that they must've been talking to her. "Uh, yeah…hi," she called back, intent on getting back to the house she was staying at before she froze to death in the shade; just because the sun was out, didn't mean it wasn't cold when you were wet.

"Ve talk, yes?" the woman called again in broken English, and M.J. closed her eyes against the headache she could feel coming on.

("Sure,") she replied in German, startling the three woman as she turned and fixed them with an expectant stare.

("Well,") the first one began again, casting mischievous glances to her two companions. ("When you came into town, we were certain you were all men. Now we see you, and you are a woman! Why do you dress like a man? You are so filthy and disgusting!") Her two friends tittered idiotically, and M.J. could feel her eyebrow twitching in annoyance.

("Look, lady. I don't know _who _you are, or what right you have to judge me, but I've been through hell and back because of you and your fucking army, so if I wanna _dress _like a God damn man, I sure as hell will! And if I want to _curse _like a God damn man, then I will fucking do as I like, do you understand?") The three women's eyes had gone wide as saucers, and they took a few, cautionary steps back, suddenly wondering if they made the right choice in calling out to her+. ("So the next time you want to cast stones, stop and take a look at your _own _damn country, and back the fuck _off_! Got it?")

By the time she finished, M.J.'s chest was heaving, breathing ragged as her fists clenched on the towel. The three women seemed to rethink their idea of 'talking' with the young lietenant, and instantly fled down the path, taking off at a very unladylike pace. M.J. watched them go, feeling a constriction in her chest that hadn't been there before.

Did she really look so much like a man?

What did Joe think? He obviously cared about her, but did he think she looked like a dirty, filthy man? What if he decided, when they got back home, that he wanted a pretty, well-made-up housewife instead of a scruffy, soldier-girl? What if he wanted nice smiles and make-up, and dresses and she couldn't give him that? What if…?

"M.J.?"

M.J. turned to see Joe strolling along the path, looking as though he'd been dunked one too many times. He had a towel around his neck, and was scrubbing furiously at his hair. "You all right? You look a little flustered."

"Yeah, I'm all right," M.J. replied, glancing up the path and the way the three women had gone. "Just thinkin'…"

"Thinkin' 'bout what?" Joe asked, following her gaze curiously, but seeing nothing. He looked back down at M.J., wondering what was wrong. "You _sure _you're all right?" He paused, waiting for an answer, but none came. "M.J.?"

"Do you…do you like me the way I am, Joe?"

Joe blinked, confused, before stepping in her path. Her head was down, chin nestled close to her chest, and he was unable to catch her eyes. "Hey," he murmured. "What's all this about?" He tucked his fingers beneath her chin, and lifted her face to see apprehension shining in her eyes. "What do you mean? Of _course _I do! M.J….I love you. I love everything _about _you."

Her eyes widened slightly, and she blinked. "You-you do?"

"Of _course _I do! You didn't think I asked you to marry me because I _kind _of liked you just a _little _bit? I love you. I really do. You're an amazing woman, M.J. Now, I don't know what made you ask such a silly question, but you forget about it right now. You're my best friend, my girl, my soon to be wife. Don't you dare think otherwise."

M.J.'s eyes seemed to shine with an emotion Joe couldn't quite place, and he worried he was going to make her cry, when she threw her arms around his neck so suddenly, she nearly knocked him backwards. "Oh, Joe, I love you too! Thank you. You know just what to say to put a gal's mind at ease." She peppered his cheek with kisses, before pressing her lips to his. He wound his arms around her, holding her close, both entirely unmindful of their surroundings.

"Ain't that sweet? Now how come I can't find me a girl like that?"

Joe and M.J. broke apart, leaping nearly a foot away from one another with wide eyes. Bill, George, Frank, Eugene, and Babe had come along the path and caught the two red-handed. Frank was elbowing George, looking like he'd just come upon a great big bit of juicy gossip, which he might very well have. "That's cuz you got such a loud mouth that you scare them all away, Luz," he quipped, earning a smack from the aforementioned 'loud mouth.'

"Well, well, what do we got here? Did mine ears deceive me when I heard the word 'wife'?" Bill asked, striding forward with his hands on his hips. "Tell me I wasn't hallucinatin', eh, Babe?"

Babe pretended to look thoughtful, before he folded his arms and shook his head. "Nah, Bill. I think I heard it too. What about you, Gene?"

Eugene smiled in his soft way, and chuckled deeply. "I reckon I heard it too. Somethin' you been keepin' from us, lieutenant?"

M.J. scowled, a blush spreading across her cheeks as Joe looked anywhere but at the men. "Well, fine, you eavesdroppers. Joe asked me to marry him, and I said yes. Ya happy?"

Bill let out a whoop and clapped Joe on the back, nearly pitching his friend face first into the dirt. "Well, why the hell didn't you say something sooner? We've got to celebrate!" Joe mimicked M.J.'s scowl, looking faintly put out.

"We didn't want it spreadin' around. It won't be good if any of the higher-ups get wind of it, ya know?"

Bill scoffed. "We won't tell anyone, will we boys?" He looked over his shoulder at the four men behind him who were trying very hard not to burst into laughter. "Ahem. _Will _we boys?"

"No sir!" they immediately chorused, before they succumbed to their laughter and nearly knocked one another over as they doubled over in hilarity.

"It ain't funny," M.J. grumbled, but a smile quickly replaced her scowl as she glanced at Joe, who's face was beet red. "Aw, come on. Maybe it's better this way. Now we can all celebrate together. I bet we could even scrounge up some booze, huh?"

"I like the way the lady thinks!" Bill chirped, slinging an arm over M.J.'s shoulders. "Now what say we all get cleaned up and celebrate this nice and proper like?"

"Sounds like a plan to me, Bill," Joe finally said as he smacked Frank on the back of the head to get him to stop laughing.

"Ow, hey!"

George smacked him too, wearing a cheeky grin. "Shut up, Perco."

And then, without warning, M.J. smacked him too.

"Ow, Jesus! What the hell? What was _that _for? Why does everyone keep hitting me?"

M.J. shrugged and smiled cheekily, skipping off down the path. "I was feeling left out!"

* * *

After the celebration (which had lasted longer than either anticipated and involved all the men billeted in the same house who had miraculously gained knowledge of the engagement seemingly upon them walking through the door), M.J. and Joe had snuck away back to the lake. They'd cuddled up beside it, watching the moon shine off the surface and the water rippling on the shore.

"How much longer you think we'll be here?"

Joe leaned against the wall bordering the edge of the lake, booted feet crossed at the ankle. He had an arm slung over M.J.'s shoulder, and his eyes were closed, right up until she spoke. He cracked open an eye and regarded her tiredly, before he chuckled and pulled her close. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, and she closed her eyes briefly with a smile.

"I like to keep that as far from my mind as possible. I find the time passes by quicker if I don't think about it."

M.J. grumbled but leaned into his embrace. "Again with that answer...You may not like to think about it, but _I_ do. I wanna go home, Joe."

Joe was silent, his face pensive, before he looked down at her. "I never asked where you live," he murmured quietly. "I never asked where you were going to go back to after this was all over. Where…M.J.?"

M.J. was silent as well, before she spoke in a soft, whisper-like voice. "Yonkers, New York."

New York? Christ, that was quite a ways from Pennsylvania. What was he going to do if she wanted to stay there, with her family and her friends? Despite the step they'd taken in the relationship, Joe still wasn't sure what would really happen once they got back home.

"Joe? Remember when I said you were stuck with me for life?"

Joe glanced down into the amused smile of the woman beside him, and chuckled. "Yeah, I do recall."

"Good. Cuz you're not getting out of that _now _buddy, no matter _how _far away you try to get."

* * *

"What the hell you _mean _you're going _home_?"

Bill stood over M.J., glowering darkly at the tiny officer, who had her bag slung over her shoulder. "Can I make myself any clearer?" she asked, amusement tingeing her voice. "I'm going home. Geeze, you act like I'm abandoning you. You know well and good we'll be seeing each other again real soon."

"You're practically are abandonin' us," Bill growled, folding his arms across his chest.

"Good for you, lieutenant," Eugene called from across the room where he was lounging in a chair.

"Yeah, M.J. We thought we'd never get rid of you," Luz joked from the other side of the room where he, Perconte, Bull and Martin were playing a game of cards. His face fell when Bull laid down his hand to reveal he'd won the game.

"How'd you manage that, M.J.?" Martin asked curiously, shooting a smile her way.

"Christof. I've being transferred back over stateside to help him out. He says he's drowning in paperwork. So you know…I'm going to be having lots of fun _there_." She made a face, looking faintly annoyed, and received a round of chuckles from the men. Eugene stood from his chair and crossed the room, holding out his hand.

"It was a pleasure serving with you, Mary," he said in his quiet Cajun accent. M.J. chuckled, and wrapped her arms around his neck, startling the medic, who awkwardly returned the hug, looking faintly embarrassed. A chorus of goodbyes, hugs, salutes and handshakes followed from the men of Easy Company who knew M.J. well enough to say goodbye.

In the end, there was only two left.

Bill grabbed M.J.'s bag and slung it over his shoulder as she strolled out the door, waving goodbye to the fellas still left in the house. She chanced a look up at Bill from the corner of her eyes, and saw the pensive, tumultuous look on his face and in his dark eyes. "Bill? Are you mad?" she questioned tentatively.

Bill let out a long sigh, then ruffled her hat affectionately. "Nah, how can I be? I'd give just about anything to be home right now, so I can't blame ya. I'm just worried about how Joe is gonna take this. You tell 'im yet?"

"…yeah…"

"I hear a 'but' at the end of that…What happened?"

M.J. half sighed and half growled. "He kinda…stormed away after I told him. I didn't even get to explain myself or anything!"

Bill clucked his tongue. "Don't take it too hard, princess. Joe's just upset. Try talking to him again before you leave." He handed over her bag, and winked, before he pulled her into a rough embrace that she heartily returned. "Look after yourself, kid," he muttered, patting her head and grinning from ear to ear.

M.J. returned the smile, nodding her head as stray curls bounced around her face. "You bet, Bill. You too. You too. Thanks for everything…"

* * *

"Joe?"

The silent figure didn't move. He was leaning against a tree near the lake, looking out over the expanse of water in solitary thought. At the sound of M.J.'s approach, she could see his shoulders tense, but he didn't run away from her again.

That, at least, was progress.

"Joe, can I talk to you?"

He inclined his head only minimally, but didn't turn to face her. M.J. dropped her bag on the ground, and strolled towards him, careful not to drive him away again. "Listen Joe, I'm sorry. It's just, I'm needed back home, and I haven't seen my family in-"

"You're needed _here _too."M.J. looked startled at his words, her eyes flying up to rest on his face, though his gaze was still on the water and not on her.

"Joe…" she began, her brows furrowing.

"M.J., I thought you were going to stay with me. This…I hadn't expected _this_. You're just gonna up and leave me? I thought we were gonna see this through to the end together, even if it meant…even if it meant going to the Pacific together. I-I thought…I dunno _what_ I thought, but I figured we'd be together no matter what." This time, he did turn to face her, and the hurt and anger on his face made M.J. wince

"No, never, Joe. I'd _never _leave you. I'm just going home to help Christof and be with my family. You'll be home sooner than you know, and then we can be together, no more war, no more worries, no more stupid assignments. Just you and me…And the occasional visit from one of the guys. Isn't that what you want, Joe? That's…that's what I want." She fell silent, staring at her boots with a strange intensity and trying hard not to think about the strong desire to cry.

She could feel Joe's scrutinizing gaze as he watched her, gauging her words carefully. She waited for him to say something, _anything_, as the silence descended and fell heavily over them. Just when she'd given up on him, she felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her and pull her close, crushing her against Joe's solid frame.

"Of _course _that's what I want," he murmured against her hat, closing his eyes briefly to savor their closeness. "Since the moment we first kissed, that's what I've wanted. You have to promise me something, M.J."

M.J. wriggled in his arms until she could look up into his dark eyes. "Anything."

"Wait for me. And don't fall for one of those pretty boy sailors while I'm over here, ya got it?"

M.J. laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down for a deep, passionate kiss. "You _got_ it, sergeant." She suddenly seemed to remember something, and pulled away from Joe to dig around in her pocket. He looked on curiously, wondering what she was looking for, before she came up with a triumphant 'Ah ha!' and plopped something small and round into his outstretched hand.

"What is-?" he began, looking down at the small, simple elegant ring she'd dropped into his palm. Nothing more than a diamond set atop the golden circle, and it was beautiful, without being outlandish. "What is this for? I don't think I can wear this, ya know. It's too small." He smiled cheekily, and M.J. smacked him lightly on the shoulder.

"Oh, enough, you big idiot. _That_," she began, a wry smile on her lips as she grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. "-is _my_ engagement ring. You better have it handy next time I see you Joe, or there _will _be hell to pay." She leaned up and kissed him gently.

Joe deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms around her waist, mindless of the heavy bag she was carrying. M.J.' felt the familiar tingle up her spine every time she and Joe kissed, but this was, by far, the most passionate. He wasn't much for words, but M.J. had soon come to find that he definitely had a well of emotions hidden behind his soft eyes. She dropped her bag, wrapping her arms around his neck as he pulled her against him. She finally parted her lisp from his, noses inches apart as their gazes met. "I love you," Joe murmured, and M.J. smiled, knocking her forehead into his. "Love you too," she whispered, her heart racing.

M.J. finally pried herself out of his hold, albeit somewhat reluctantly, and grabbed her bag, slinging it over her shoulder, before she stepped away, saluting sharply. "I'll see you back in the states, sergeant...I'll be looking forward to it."

Joe chuckled, closing his fingers around the ring, his dark eyes shining with happiness. "Me too, lieutenant. Me too."

**A/N: **Phew, only a few more chapters, if that, left over! Whoot whoot!

**Next Chapter: **M.J. goes home, and gets a warm welcome.


	11. Homecoming

**Author's Note: **I'd like to point out, if anyone caught it, that chapter 8 and 9 nearly stared out with the same sentence. Haha, I totally didn't notice until now.

**Author's Note: **[chants] Almost done. Almost done…Almost done…

**Quote of the Day: "**That night, I thanked God for seeing me through that day of days and prayed I would make it through D plus 1. I also promised that if some way I could get home again, I would find a nice peaceful town and spend the rest of my life in peace."

**Title: **Just One Word

**Rating: **T (PG-13) Yeah. For language, death and probably violence. But mostly language and death.

**Summary: **An unknown solider. Tossed aside, she was forgotten. It would have been nice to know some one cared…And even though she was surrounded by a company of men, she was so very alone…

**Disclaimer: **Since these are real people, I own nothing but my characters. This story is purely fictional, and I hope no one is offended by it. Thank you.

**Chapter 11:** Homecoming

"Ma?"

M.J. stepped through the threshold of the house. It was dark inside, as was to be expected at nearly a quarter to midnight, but she'd at least have expected _someone _to be awake. Maybe that was just wishful thinking on her part. Not as though they knew she'd be home, right? She scratched the back of her head, and pulled her customary cap off, hanging it on a rack by the door.

"Ma? Ma, I'm home."

There was the sound of shuffling somewhere in the back of the house, and M.J. blinked and squinted her eyes when a light flickered on at the far end of the hall. Then, a familiar shadow, and an all too familiar voice made her heart ache and tears well in the corner of her eyes.

"Mary Jane? Is-is it really _you_?"

"Ma…"M.J. dropped her pack and rushed forward into her mother's warm, welcoming embrace. She could feel her mother's chest heaving as she sucked in ragged breaths, and her own tears began to fall down her cheeks in tiny, silent rivulets. "Oh ma, I missed you so much!"

"Mary, my little Mary. My baby has come home at last!"

The sleepy sound of a child yawning behind them and a questioning whisper pulled M.J. away from her mother. Her eyes widened as her little sister stood there in her nightgown, a chubby stuffed teddy bear clutched in one hand. "Ma? What's goin' on?" Nine year old Abby questioned, before her gaze took in the rumpled, battle-worn form of her older sister. "M.J.!"

She launched herself at her sister, and M.J. just barely managed to let go of her mother in time to catch her. "Hey there, little bear!" she cried, tears now streaming freely down her cheeks. The weight of Abby took both girls tumbling to the floor, and their mother followed, wrapping them up in her arms and holding them close.

"You're back!" M.J.'s mother sobbed softly, cradling her children to her. "Our family is whole again. Oh my sweet, Mary. My sweet baby girl!"

* * *

"So what was it like over there, sis? Did ya get ta shoot a gun?"

M.J. regarded her sister over the rim of her coffee mug with grim silence, a frown creasing the corner of her eyes. Slowly, with deliberate movements, she set down the mug and the newspaper that was in her other hand, and folded her arms on the table. Her sister looked faintly confused, as though wondering why no immediate answer had come, but nevertheless, waited expectantly.

"Abby-girl, it was like nothing I've ever seen before. I ain't gonna tell ya all the bad stuff; maybe when you're older, but I sure can tell you that Austria is one heck of a pretty place. Greenest grass and prettiest country sides you'll ever even dream of seein'. I even brought you an' ma back some souvenirs."

Abby's eyes grew wide and round with anticipation, and she clutched the edge of the table, beaming a smile at M.J. that was decidedly and conspicuously missing a front tooth. "Really sis! You brought us souvenirs? I wanna see! Can I see?"

Katherine, M.J.'s mother, shot her youngest a stern look as she set a plate of scrambled eggs in front of M.J., who immediately dug into them with a gusto the likes of which her family had never seen. "After breakfast, Abby," she chided, smiling faintly. "Let your sister eat first. She seems to be starving." She chuckled softly, folding her arms over her chest as she watched M.J. inhale her breakfast. "You eat any faster, and you'll break a world record, sweetheart."

"Sorry, ma," M.J. apologized hastily between bites, too hungry to feel embarrassed. "I just ain't had nothing' like these eggs in such a long time. They're pure heaven!" She missed the frown that creased her mother's forehead, but she said nothing of her silent concerns.

What had _really _happened over there? Katherine was no fool, and she was certainly not blind. She could see the hardened look in her daughter's eyes, and the occasional wistful glance out the window, as if dreaming of some place far away. M.J. had changed so much since she'd been home almost four years ago. She looked older, more world wise, and tired, as if she'd need a hundred days of good sleep just to get a little bit of rest. It worried Katherine, but she knew it was nothing her strong willed daughter couldn't handle.

Katherine had worried about her child; she had believed, up until a few months ago, that M.J. was working as a nurse in upper New York, near the shipyards, and then down in California. She'd never, ever imagined what her daughter had _really _been doing, and she'd probably have remained ignorant until Christof Alard, M.J.'s captain, had dropped by shortly after returning home.

The man had explained everything to Katherine, from the dangers of the secret assignments, to what her daughter had _really _been up to for nearly four years. It hadn't lessened her worry any. In fact, it had nearly killed her to hear it all. But Christof had assured her that he was not only doing everything in his power to get her daughter home safe and sound, but that she was in quite capable hands while overseas.

Katherine couldn't imagine the things that M.J. had gone through, seen, or done, and she didn't think she even wanted to try. "By the way, sweetheart," she said steadily, making her way back over to the counter to grab the coffee pot to refill M.J.'s mug. "A man dropped by early this morning while you were still asleep. I felt it was best not to wake you up; you just looked so tired…anyway, he dropped off a new uniform for you, and told me you were supposed to report at company HQ at 0900 hours."

M.J.'s head snapped up, and she glanced at the clock with a groan. "An hour? That's all I got? Man, I'd kill to be able to go back to bed for a few days." With a reluctant grace, she scooted back her chair and trudged over to the uniform her mother had motioned to hanging on the back of a door. It was protected by a white cover, and M.J. had dismissed it as her mother's laundry or something similar when she'd come in that morning.

"Be right back," she grumbled, grabbing the hangar and shuffling off to her room to change. Abby giggled and swung her legs in her chair as she waited for her oatmeal to be warmed up for her. Katherine just smiled in faint amusement.

No more than twenty minutes later, M.J. remerged dressed in her new, crisp uniform. While the uniform was beautiful and new, the scowl on her face was certainly not pretty. "A skirt?" she growled, a string of expletives running through her mind that she didn't dare say aloud. "You're kidding me. I'll kill Christof. And when I'm done, I'll kill him again."

She marched over to the table, something small clutched in her hands as she adjusted the hat atop her mop of dark curls.

"Oh honey, I hadn't noticed. You're _hair_!" Katherine exclaimed, reaching up to gently finger one of the short, trim brown curls. "It's practically gone! You cut it _all _off?" She seemed dismayed at the idea, and her face was practically awash with despair for her daughter's lost hair.

"Oh ma, don't worry over it…I had to. Hair gets in the way over there. 'Sides, I hardly ever got to shower. Wouldn't do to run around with dirty hair, ya know? Anyway, here's them souvenirs I talked about." She practically beamed as she turned the tiny music box in her hand over and dumped the sparse contents onto the table. Her mother gasped audibly at the beauty of the rings, picking a silver one with a large sapphire up in two delicate fingers. "What do ya think, ma? I figure you could keep 'em or sell 'em and get somethin' nice. They sure are pretty, but they're worth a lot, far as I can tell."

"Can I have one? I want one!" Abby cried, reaching for the rings. Her mother promptly drew her hand back, and shook her head.

"No, Abby-girl. Not these. But maybe M.J. has something else for you?" She glanced at her daughter hopefully, and smiled when M.J. nodded, little curls bouncing around her ears.

"Oh, you better believe I do, Abby-girl. Here." She held out the music box, a dark chestnut, intricately carved and glossed over so it was smooth and elegant to the touch. "It plays a nice little tune, too. Thought you might like it. I got this in Berchtesgaden. Real fancy place. Do ya like it?"

Abby stared at the music box in wonder, turning it over and over in her small hands, before she beamed up at her sister. "I sure do!" she cried, her own mop of dark curls bouncing around her shoulders. "I love it! Thanks, sis!"

M.J. was just glad Abby was so easily distracted. She chuckled to herself as she pulled her jacket on over her blouse, before her mother's gentle hand on her arm stopped her. "Mary," she said softly, keeping her voice low so that Abby couldn't hear. "Mary, these rings really _are _worth a lot. Don't you want to _keep _them?"

M.J. shook her head, looking faintly amused. "Nah, not really. I think we'd be better off sellin' them and gettin' some good money for a new house or somethin'. 'Sides," she continued with a conspiratorial wink. "Somethin' _big _might come up soon, and you never know when you'll need the extra cash."

She leaned forward and kissed her smiling mother on the cheek, before she ruffled her sister's hair, and headed towards the door. "I'll be home in a few hours, all right?"

"All right, sweetheart. Just don't go traipsin' off to Europe again while our backs are turned, you hear!"

* * *

"Christof, you dirty little son of a-"

Christof laughed as M.J. marched into his office, the reaction he knew he'd get from her once she was forced to don the dreaded and much hated 'skirt of doom.' But they were back in the U.S. now, with no war, no mud, and no need for combat boots. There were rules here, and like it or not, she'd have to comply with the regulation woman's army uniform.

"Mary, Mary. What will I ever do with you? Maybe I should wash out that mouth of yours with soap, hm?"

M.J. sat down heavily in the chair across the desk, still looking faintly annoyed. "Yeah, yeah. You talk a big game. So Christof, what did you drag me all the way back here for? 'Cuz I gotta say, if it's paperwork, I'm gonna shove it straight up your-"

"Geeze, Mary, you sure know how to make me feel loved. It's not _really _paperwork, actually. I called you back here because I promised your mother I would bring you home. More importantly, I'd like to tell you that you're being discharged from the army."

M.J. stared at Christof, the silence in the office unbearably loud, until he was certain that he could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall behind him. After a few minutes had passed with still no words, Christof began to look worried. "Mary?"

"_Discharged_?"

Christof blinked, and then nodded, a grave smile on his face. "Discharged, yes. You've done your duty to your country, Mary. And now it's time for you to start living. _Real _life, Mary. Not 'war life.' You deserve it. You and Joe."

"How do you-?"

Christof smiled enigmatically. "I'm an intelligence officer; I know these things. Regardless, you will no longer be serving the U.S. army as of tomorrow morning. However, I'd like to offer you a proposition."

Christof leaned forward in his chair, and M.J., though startled, flabbergasted, and frankly, a bit shell-shocked by this new, offered him a suspicious look. "I'm listening…"

"My sister owns a shop she's decided she doesn't want to run anymore, so she's sold it to me. Unfortunately, it's a hat, dress, and clothing shop, three things I know nothing about. Now, I know this shop is going to make a profit, as it already has a very long, very wealthy list of clientele. However, I have no one to run it for me. I need someone who can take charge and run the operation smoothly. And if there's anyone who can do that and pull it off without a hitch, it's you, Mary. Not to mention the fact that I happened to hint at it to your mother, and she practically shoved all those dress designs she works on my way. I believe you could run this store fairly well, and with the help of your very talented mother, you could help me turn it into an even better store, with an even bigger profit…What do you say?"

M.J. rubbed the back of her head, looking faintly surprised and a little amused by his spiel. "You're friggin' _serious_, Christof? You really want _me _to run a clothing store, of all things? Have you actually _met _me, by any chance?" When Christof merely raised a brow in reply, she sighed, and chuckled softly. "Fine, fine. You big idiot. Can't believe you've suckered me into working for you again. Bringin' my ma into it was a low blow. But I don't deny I need a job, and that one _does _sound mighty appealin' except for the dresses and all. I think bringin' in a line of pants wouldn't be a bad idea; hear those is gettin' reaaaal popular." She winked and Christof laughed, shaking his head.

"Mary, you do whatever you like. I have _absolute _faith in you."

He stood up, and M.J. followed suit, both staring at one another across the desk. "Well, lieutenant Heartford, it has been an absolute pleasure serving with you. You're one of the most stubborn, intelligent, feisty, and amazing people I have ever come across. So I suppose this is the last time I'll address you as your captain. You're a hell of a soldier, Mary, and a hell of an officer. I'm proud to call you my friend."

M.J. sniffed, and grinned. "Thank you, sir. It's been an honor knowing you and serving as your lieutenant. This has been one hell of a ride, and I'll never forget any of it. You're an amazing captain, and I'm also proud to call you my friend, sir."

Christof smiled widely, hand snapping up in an automatic, crisp salute, as M.J. did the same. "Well, then I suppose this is the last time I'll ever be able to say this. Lieutenant Heartford, you are dismissed. For _good_."

M.J. laughed heartily, and practically lunged around the desk to wrap Christof in a hug so tight, he worried a rib might crack. "Thanks, Christof. Thanks for _everything_. Give me a call about that shop. I'll go in the _moment _you need me to."

"Good. Now that _that's _all over with…How does tomorrow sound?"

* * *

True to her word, M.J. was at the shop the next day.

It didn't take her long to do exactly what Christof predicted. She stormed in, took over, and set the business back on track. Surprisingly, for someone who loathed fashion and dresses, she was relatively good at dressing other people in things that suited them.

She brought in new lines of dresses, hats, and women's trousers and blouses from all across the country, including some weird styles from overseas that she'd seen in a magazine at a downtown news stand. She dedicated her time to keeping up on what women liked, and making sure to stock the store with what would sell fast.

_Sell _it did.

Christof was right; the store made one heck of a profit. M.J.'s mother was even able to design some of her own dresses, which were remarkably stylish and very popular among the younger generations. They sold the rings M.J. had brought home, save for two; one that Abby liked and one that Katherine adored. Katherine was adamant that the ring for Abby would be her daughter's engagement ring when she got old enough. M.J. had only smiled secretly at that, and shook her head.

M.J. was, all in all, doing really well.

She hadn't told her mother about her engagement. In fact, the only person who knew in the states was Christof himself. Of course, she _had _told her mother about Joe. In fact, she'd told her mother about every man she'd met in Easy company, and about all the things that had happened while overseas. She'd excluded the more morbid details, and kept her stories as light and cheery as possible, but there was a knowing glint in her mother's eyes when she listened. It said only 'you can talk about it when you're ready.'

M.J. wasn't sure if she'd ever _be _ready.

In the months following her discharge from the army and subsequent drift into the world of fashion (though she refused to see it that way, and stated it was strictly 'for the business'), M.J. didn't think about much else except Joe. Of course, as the days and weeks and months began to wear on, her thoughts were soon claimed by her job and her home life.

She'd decided to move out of her mother's apartment, and get one of her own. She was making plenty of money and it was time, she believed, to stop 'sponging' off her mother. Needless to say, Katherine wasn't too keen on the idea of losing her 'baby' only months after she'd come home, but once assured that the apartment would be within walking distance of the old apartment, she soon came around.

M.J. was currently setting up her new apartment, unpacking a few of the last boxes before she could officially settle in. She'd need to buy a bit of furniture, but the two bedroom apartment was rather nice, she had to admit. Of course, most of that was thanks to her hard work and effort; painting, re-tiling, and re-carpeting, as well as buying new appliances certainly did wonders for a place, that was for sure.

She was down to unpacking a particularly gaudy looking lamp that her mother had insisted on buying her, when there was a knock at the door. M.J. glanced up, curious as to who that could be. She knew it wasn't her mother; she and Abby had gone home only a few hours ago after helping unload the last of the boxes. She knew it wasn't Christof; he lived halfway across the town and it was nearly dark. There's no way he'd travel all the way over here just to see if she was settling in.

If it wasn't them, then who was it?

Lamp still in hand, she rose to her feet and crossed the hallway to the door, pulling it open to see who her late evening visitor was. What she saw, however, startled her so badly that she dropped the lamp. It shattered on the entryway floor, but M.J. hardly noticed it through the tears welling up in her eyes.

"Joe?"

* * *

Joe couldn't help the smile on his face; it just wouldn't seem to go away.

He sat at the table in M.J.'s new apartment, a plate of what could have once resembled cookies, if baked properly, sitting in front of him. "I didn't know you could bake," he said wryly, looking more than amused. M.J. sat across from him, her chin resting on her hands as she simply smiled, her eyes still glistening with her tears of happiness.

"I _can't_. Couldn't you tell? Those look more like rocks than cookies."

When Joe had stepped through the door, M.J. had tackled him so hard, they'd both tumbled to the floor. She'd proceeded to shower him with kisses, practically cutting off his air as she wound her arms around his neck. A few of the neighbors had peeked out their doors, and they had smiled when they saw their new neighbor in the arms of the young soldier. They knew what it was like to have loved ones come home to them after months and years of waiting; they'd never dream of begrudging the young couple a moment of their reunion, and had quietly shut their doors with soft laughter and warm hearts.

Now, here he sat, wishing he knew what he was really supposed to say after all this time. He knew what he _wanted _to say, but he just wasn't sure _how_. He cleared his throat, sitting back in his chair and brushing imaginary dust from his uniform. Christ, it was never this hard to talk to her when they were out in the field. But back there, she'd worn the same clothes he had, not the pretty, burgundy dress she now wore. She wasn't just M.J. anymore…she was a _woman_.

"You look…nice," he commented lamely, feeling his cheeks light up with a dark blush. M.J. seemed startled, and unfolded her hands to look down at her dress. She felt her own blush creeping up her neck, and choked down a nervous laugh.

"Oh, um, yeah. Well, it's one of my ma's designs. She wanted me ta wear it, ya know? Says I gotta start dressin' like a girl once in a while." She smoothed down the hem, and fidgeted in her seat. "Uh, so…how's…how's everyone doin'? How's Bill? Um…And how come you haven't gone home yet?"

She was a little afraid to hear the answer; maybe he was just passing through before he went home for good. M.J. didn't know if she could stand to be away from him again. The first time had been hard enough.

"Oh, yeah. Everyone's doin' fine. Bill sends his regards. Says I better 'do right' by you or he'll 'pummel me so hard I won't be able to walk straight for a month,' his words, not mine." He chuckled, his dark eyes flashing with mirth and some other hidden emotion. "Everyone else is doin' fine. They all said to tell you 'hi.'"

He fell silent for a few moments, pondering her second question, and glanced up at her form beneath dark brows. M.J. fiddled with the hem of her skirt nervously, watching him like a hawk would a rabbit. Joe didn't much feel like a rabbit, but being in her sights didn't make things any less uncomfortable.

"I, uh, I kinda already went home for a while. Had to see my family, ya know? I…I came back here…to see _you_. I went to your company HQ, and your captain, that German fella, he told me you were discharged, and then gave me your address, which, I think you should talk to him about. Can't go givin' away your address to strange men…But anyway…I came to give this to you, 'cuz I'm tired of waitin'."

He fished with something in his pocket, and held it out to her, a broad smile on his face. M.J. glanced down at the proffered ring, before a grin split her face from ear to ear. "Well, I'll be, Joseph Toye. You managed to _actually _hang onto it. I was worried you might lose it. Guess my worries were unfounded."Joe scowled a bit as he slipped it onto her finger, looking faintly offended. "No _way _I'd lose this; not in a million years. It's too important…_you're _too important."

M.J. smiled softly, her eyes filling up with tears again. "Damn it, Joe. I've cried a total of four times in my _entire _life, and here I've done it twice in the past _hour_. Thank you for coming back, Joe. Now what say we go get this marriage thing over with and start figurin' out the details of our life together? I figure a list is a great place to start, don't you?"

Joe laughed, scooting back his chair and reaching out to drag M.J. from hers, crushing her in a tight embrace. "A list sounds like a good idea. But for the moment, let's just enjoy the here and the now."

M.J. smiled as their lips met. "Couldn't agree more."

* * *

**A/N: **One more chapter to go. Maybe two. I'm trying to decide if I wanna do an epilogue…

**Next Chapter: **Revelations, a wedding, and maybe a future.


	12. Making Memories

**Author's Note: **I believe this will be the last chapter. I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed! You're all SO amazing, and thanks for sticking with me to the end. I hope to be able to update my other stories ASAP. Once I get the error fixed of course; until then, I can't edit or add chapters to any other stories. But you may be seeing a couple new ones from me some time in the near future, depending on how creative I'm feeling. Thanks guys! You're so awesome! Love you all!

**Quote of the Day: **

This could be one of those memories,

We want to hold on to, cling to, one we can't forget,

Baby, this could be our last first kiss,

The door to forever, what if this was that moment,

That chance worth taking…History in the making.

- Darius Rucker

**Title: **Just One Word

**Rating: **T (PG-13) Yeah. For language, death and probably violence. But mostly language and death.

**Summary: **An unknown solider. Tossed aside, she was forgotten. It would have been nice to know some one cared…And even though she was surrounded by a company of men, she was so very alone…

**Disclaimer: **Since these are real people, I own nothing but my characters. This story is purely fictional, and I hope no one is offended by it. Thank you.

**Chapter 12:** Making Memories

"Ma?"

"And then we've got to get the flowers. Oh! And I've got to make sure the dress fits. We'll need to do one last fitting before tomorrow so I can make sure. I hope you haven't been eating too many sweets!"

"Ma?"

"Then there's the food. Thank goodness the ladies down the hall have all pitched in! So many people to feed!"

"Ma?"

"And what am I going to do with your hair? I can't think of a thing since you cut it all off. And I-"

"MA!"

M.J.'s mother turned to her with a loud exhale, the words dying on her lips as he daughter scowled up at her from her place on the couch. "Oh, yes dear?"

"Ma, don't you think you should sit down and rest. You've been runnin' around for days since Joe got here, and you won't even let me help you!"

Abby strolled into the room, carrying boxes piled so high in her arms, she could hardly see where she was going. She managed to bump into a lamp (which M.J. caught before it could shatter; she couldn't afford to lose two lamps in two weeks!) before she made it to the couch, setting the boxes down with a loud 'oomph!'

"She's right, ya know, ma," Abby said, trying to sound as grown up as she could. "You been runnin' around like a chicken with your head cut off. Hell, just let M.J. help ya."

A small gasp of surprise escaped Katherine's lips, and she instantly turned a dark glower onto both of her daughters. "Abby, you watch your mouth! And M.J., I don't think I need to tell you to watch what you say around your sister. I know exactly where she got that!"

M.J. smiled sheepishly. "Hey, sorry, ma. Won't happen again."

Pursing her lips, Katherine turned and strode over to the boxes, rifling through the contents until she lifted up a white dress that was plain, elegant, and just as simple as could be. Nothing flashy, nothing fancy, and nothing too frilly (M.J. had insisted they keep ruffles to a minimum). M.J. stood up to look over her mother's handiwork, and smiled at the sight of the tears in Katherine's eyes. "Oh, ma. I love it! You really outdid yourself!" she cheered quietly, hugging her mother around the waist.

"Joe won't know what hit 'im," Abby declared, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. M.J. blushed brightly, and quickly hid her face from her sister, lest she become the butt end of a joke.

"So who all is coming?" Abby asked, rooting through the other boxes to find the veil and the slip and the shoes M.J. was to wear and spreading them out on the couch.

"Well," M.J. began thoughtfully. "There's Grandpa Jimmy, of course, aunt Martha and uncle Donny. Then cousin Rosie and her husband, Peter. And Christof. But it's not like we have a huge family, so other than me, you and ma, there won't be many from our side of the family. Then there's the boys from Easy company who RSVP'ed…"

"What about Joe's family?"

"Oh, I 'magine a lot of them are gonna be here, for the most part. It's a bit odd not havin' met his ma or dad, ya know? I mean, I'm marryin' their son, and they don't even know who I am, really." M.J.'s shoulders slumped slightly, but Katherine, having set the dress reverently on the back of the couch, smiled and patted her shoulder sympathetically.

"And you're afraid they won't like you? Mary Jane, I'm surprised at you. You know better than that. But even if they don't like you, Joe _does_, and that's all that matters, right?"

M.J. shrugged one shoulder, shooting her mother a flippant smile. "Heh, yeah, it sure is. And boy, does he ever _like _me." The grin she shot her mother was more impish and teasing than anything, and Katherine furrowed her brow in amusement.

"M.J., you're a terrible influence."

M.J. glanced at Abby, and grinned. "I know."

* * *

"So, Joe! Ya nervous, buddy?"

Joe fiddled with his cards, arranging and rearranging them as if the display didn't sit quite well with him. He cleared his throat, and shook his head. "N-no," he managed, though his words cracked slightly.

A few of the Easy men had been able to RSVP for the wedding; Malarkey, Perconte, Eugene, Winters, Babe, Lipton, Luz, Bill of course, Compton and even Nixon. Nixon and Winters had gone out to see the town, while the rest of the boys had hung around the hotel room, playing craps, poker, drinking and giving Joe a generally hard time about things, although it was all in good humor.

Bill grinned wildly. "I know I'd be, if that was me walkin' down that aisle."

Eugene smiled in his quiet way, and shook his head. "Don't go givin' him any ideas now, Bill. Besides, it's a cause for celebration, not jitters and nerves." He turned to Joe with a serious look. "Ain't never gonna have another day as special as this, by my reckonin'. Enjoy it, and don't worry about nothin' 'cept how pretty she looks in that dress."

Joe couldn't help but smile at the former medic's easy-going and in depth response; trust Eugene to get to the heart of the matter. Luz, Malarkey, Perconte and Babe all laughed aloud. "I can't even begin to imagine M.J. in a dress," Luz remarked, earning a slightly scathing look from Joe. "I mean, not that I'd imagine her in anything at all and…uh…I mean, well that came out wrong. You know what I mean, Joe!"

Perconte slapped his friend on the back, leaning back in his chair and laughing at his predicament. "Way I see it, you're the first one of us besides Lip here to take the big leap. That takes some guts, pal," Frank remarked, throwing down a card on the table.

"Straight flush!" Buck crowed triumphantly, throwing his hand down for all to see. There was a chorus of groans as he cheekily collected his winnings. "Anyways, Joe, I always knew you two fit well together. Always stickin' around one another while we were over there. _Always _knew…"

"Sure ya did, Buck," Malarkey quipped with a smile. "We forgot you were psychic."

"Shaddup," Buck countered good naturedly, swiping half-heartedly at Malarkey. "So, you say M.J.'s mother is taking care of the entire event? Sounds like a lot of work, don't you think?" He raised his eyebrows, reaching over to grab the deck and shuffle the cards.

Joe's brows furrowed, and he leaned back a little, watching the cards with a thoughtful intensity. "Well, yeah, I suppose. I don't know what the big deal is, ya know? It's not like it has to be a huge deal. Me and M.J. talked about it, and we both wanted to keep it small. A few of my relatives are comin' up for it, and there's a few of hers, plus you guys so…Well, we really have kept it small. But you know how women are; M.J. says her mother is blowin' is all out of proportion. Makin' a huge deal outta the whole thing." He shrugged. "Way I figure it, as long as we both get to say 'I do,' and we end up married at the end of the day, nothin' much else matters."

This time, it was Eugene who laughed aloud, smiling brightly at the man next to him. "You and M.J. are more alike than you could ever imagine; I betcha that'd be her answer too."

Joe grumbled good-naturedly, but accepted his hand of cards when Buck dealt them out. "Anyway," he continued, arranging his cards so he could look them over. "I'll just be happy when this whole thing is over with. Between you and me, gettin' married makes me a little jumpy; not the being married part, but the part about having to say all that stuff in front of people. I like my private life to stay private, thanks. I don't think a ceremony is really all so necessary. Or at least, not such a big one."

"Well," Babe said with a jovial grin. "You could always elope, ya know. Save yourself and her ma all that trouble."

Joe shook his head, while Bill guffawed beside him. "Imagine that!" he chuckled, arranging his own hand and trying to take a peek at Joe's cards for good measure.

"Yeah right. You thought fightin' overseas was scary, you wait 'til you meet M.J.'s mother on a bad day; that ain't a lady I'd want to cross. Give me an OP and a German line any day!"

A sneeze sounded from just outside the door, and the laughter grew quiet almost immediately. "Who was that?" Malarkey asked curiously, glancing around the table as if asking if anyone had invited anyone else over.

A round of shrugs followed the question, before a knock roused Lipton from his chair. Curiously, he opened the door, only to see M.J. on the other side of it. "Hey!" she shouted suddenly, standing in the doorway with a bag in each arm. "My ears were burning and I sneezed. You were talkin' about me, weren't you?"

"What're you doing here?" Lipton asked, clearly confused. "Thought it was bad luck for a couple to see one another before the wedding." He reached out to take the bags from M.J., shouldering them easily and carrying them inside. M.J. waved him off with a faint smile.

"Bah, you know I'm no traditionalist. If I had it my way, we'da been married and done with this stuff a loooong time ago. Anyways…" She stepped in, smoothing her dress down and beaming. "I got bored. And my ma won't leave me alone. 'What do you think of these flowers?' 'What about this dish?' 'Well, let's get your dress all fitted.' 'Where do you want these people to sit?' 'How do you want to do your hair?' Ugh. She's gonna drive me up and over the wall before this whole thing is done. So I snuck out, and brought you guys some beer."

Joe chuckled, scooting back his chair and crossing the room to welcome his girl with a chaste kiss on the lips (Neither wanted to hear anything about 'smooching in front of everyone') and took her hand, leading her back to the table.

"Well, lookit this. I don't think we've ever seen you in a _dress_! You actually look like a real dame!" Bill exclaimed, standing up to wrap M.J. in a bear hug. The short woman growled in feigned annoyance.

"That's 'cuz I _am _a real dame, Bill. And if you ever want to have kids, you best shut that big ol' mouth of yours. It's hard enough gettin' used to wearin' dresses again. The damn things are always so bothersome."

Babe laughed, elbowing Luz in the ribs. "Aw, I dunno. I always found 'em to be quite eye catching."

"Yeah, well, you try sitting down without having your dress flyin' up to give everyone a good show. And don't even get me _started _on windy days!" M.J. huffed, taking Joe's vacated seat. "What I wouldn't give for my boots and trousers again. At least that wasn't as complicated."

A chorus of laughter greeted her comment, and they began rooting around in the bags she'd brought. "Hey!" George crowed. "Ya brought us whiskey too! Did I ever tell you how much I love you, M.J.?"

M.J. rolled her eyes, and elbowed Joe. "Nah, not lately. Hey Joe, I think you got some competition." Joe chuckled, shaking his head.

"You're a woman with a sainted heart, ya know?" Bill quipped, digging around the bags as Babe reached over his shoulder to grab a beer for himself.

"Yeah, yeah," M.J. waved him off, smirking. "I just have a sixth sense 'bout these things." She turned to Eugene, patting him slightly on the shoulder. "Hey Eugene! I'm so glad you could make it. How ya been? Got any news of your own?" She wiggled her eyebrows meaningfully, and Eugene blushed predictably under her gaze.

"W-well, I been fine. And yeah…I do got some news. I'm engaged to the girl I sent that ring to. She said she loved it." He smiled genuinely, his cheeks still slightly pink.

"No shit?" Babe shouted from where he stood.

"Engaged? Well hell, we oughta celebrate! We already got the booze!" Bill added, tromping back over to hand Eugene a beer and clapping the Cajun on the back.

Joe watched the boys congratulating Eugene and rooting through the bags for a minute, before he leaned over to M.J., whispering in her ear. "Let's go for a walk for a bit," he muttered, careful to keep his voice low. M.J. nodded, smiling slightly, before Joe pulled her to her feet again.

"Well, gents. I bid you adieu. For now, at least. You better all look presentable tomorrow, or you'll learn the real meaning of 'woman's scorn.' Capiche?"

A round of 'yeah, yeah, whatever you say' followed her mild threat, and she chuckled as Joe led her out the door. "Hey youz two! Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Bill called from his place at the table.

M.J. turned around to shoot him a cheeky grin. "Bill, if we did something you wouldn't do, we'd probably wind up dead."

* * *

"You're not nervous, are you?" M.J. murmured softly as they strolled down the sidewalk. The night was still young, and the flashing lights and signs around them lit up the streets of Yonkers like a giant night club.

Joe squeezed her hand reassuringly, then let go to wrap his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close. "Nah," he drawled confidently. "Not me. After what we been through, I doubt either of us even know what 'nervous' really is. Besides, it'll be a piece of cake. Just you, me, and the fifty or so sets of eyes starin' at us while we say our vows."

"Gee, thanks," M.J. said dryly. "Now I'm _really _not nervous." She rolled her eyes playfully as Joe kissed her temple affectionately, squeezing her tightly. "You know, I never thought something like this could happen. To be honest, I never expected…Well, I never expected to settle down. Especially not right after the war. It's just never been my thing, ya know? Well, maybe not, I mean…I don't know. Do I make sense to you?" She glanced hopefully up at Joe, looking about as confused as her words sounded.

"You _always _make sense to me," Joe assured her, tilting his head so it gently knocked against hers. She giggled softly. "But I know whatcha mean. I never imagined settling down right after the war either. From what I gather, you never intended to settle down at _all_. Guess we're both deviatin' a little from what we thought was gonna happen. But it ain't a bad thing. In fact, it's the best thing that's happened to me in a few years, to be honest."

M.J. blushed, but under the street lights and but even in the brightly lit night, it was still difficult to see.

"This is all just kinda…kinda right, ya know? I can't imagine my life without you, and I don't even wanna try." He paused then, chewing his lip thoughtfully, and M.J. glanced up at him, curious at his expression.

"Joe?" she asked worriedly.

"Listen, I…" When he didn't continue, M.J. grew worried, and halted their progress, pulling Joe up short and turning him to face her. She captured his face in her hands, urging him to look at her.

"It's okay Joe, you can tell me. I won't get upset." She smiled softly, remembering one of the first real conversations they'd had, and the question that had started it all. "Penny for your thoughts, Joe?"

Joe smiled faintly, recalling that very same memory with a fond gaze, before his eyes grew a little more serious. "Well, listen…I was offered a job up in Pennsylvania…in-in Philadelphia. Working with Babe and Bill over at some factory or other. The pay's good, the hours aren't bad and…well, I wouldn't be too far from my family. Plus, Bill and Babe will be there, ya know. And…well…I wanted to know…will you come with me? I know it's a lot to ask, what with your ma and your sister being here. And the business and all but…But I think…"

He fell silent, as if unable to find a good enough reason in his mind for M.J. to tag along with him. M.J. smiled softly, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Oh…" she murmured softly. "Joe…I-I…Well, maybe…maybe it's time to branch out our store. I've heard that Philly is sorely lacking in women's apparel. I could probably making a killing out there. Besides, my ma and Abby can run the store here; they're pretty good at it." She smiled wickedly as realization slowly dawned on Joe's face.

"Really?" he began, his voice soft as he took in what she was saying. "You mean it? You're…really coming back with me?"

M.J. laughed, head tilted back and cheeks glowing a bright, rosy red. "Of course, silly! You honestly think I'd let my _husband _go off and leave me on my own! Fat chance! When I said you were stuck with me for life Joe, I meant it. How many times I gotta tell you that, huh?" She leaned forward, grabbing his chin and tilting his head down for a long, and thorough kiss.

"Now, we should probably get you back to the hotel before they start fretting. You know how the boys can be," M.J. drawled, tapping his nose. "And ma is probably having a panic attack back home; I didn't tell her I was leaving." She shrugged sheepishly, grinning like a fool when Joe slipped his arm back around her, taking her other hand with his free one.

"Sounds like a plan. So, I'll be seeing you tomorrow then?"

"Oh, most definitely. It's a date."

* * *

The next morning, the sun peeked through the drawn curtains in M.J.'s room at her mother's house. With a sigh, she turned over and snuggled into the downy comforter, oblivious to the rude awakening about to burst through her door until Abby catapulted on top of her.

"OOMPH!"

Abby giggled as she bounced up and down on M.J.'s stomach, just before her sister flipped her off to land in a heap on the floor. "Abigail Heartford!" she shrieked. "I'm gonna get you for that!" She tossed the comforter aside angrily, before realization slowly dawned on her. "I'm getting married today…"

Abby laughed, picking herself up out of her undignified heap, and giving M.J.'s hand a squeeze. "You forgot? How could you forget?" She dodged the pillow M.J. threw her way. "Anyways, just thought I'd wake you up and warn you; ma's on the warpath. She's goin' nutso with all the last minute details. Can't see why the color of the tablecloths is so damn important."

M.J. shot her sister a look. "Don't curse. And don't worry. Just let ma do her thing, and let me get ready. If I'm lucky, she'll leave me alone until I can get-"

No dice.

As if on cue, two women burst into the room, fussing and bumbling about as they held an assortment of boxes and packages between them. M.J., still a little bleary from sleep and in her pajamas, immediately grabbed the covers and held them up to herself, as though they might protect her from the wedding onslaught. "Ma, what-?"

But she was cut off as the darker haired woman rushed towards her, and pulled her into a suffocating bear hug. "Oh! Mary Jane, dear, I'm so, so, so, very _happy _to meet you! My little Joey has told me _so _much about you! You're absolutely perfect! I always knew he'd find a good wife, and look here. He did exactly that! Oh, you've made me so happy!"

M.J. looked on the verge of passing out from lack of oxygen, but still managed to shoot the woman a confused look. "Oh, oh forgive me, dear! I didn't even introduce myself!" Abby snickered from the corner at the woman's strange display. "I'm Maria Toye, Joe's mother. I'm so sorry we haven't met yet, dear. I wanted to come straight here as soon as Joe told me about you, but he insisted we stay home and spend some time together before we got caught up in all the wedding business. That boy, I tell you. He speaks so highly of you, you know. Never a sentence leaves that boy's mouth without your name being mentioned."

M.J. delicately extricated herself from the woman's grasp, smiling faintly, and trying very hard not to look as startled as she felt. "Uh, oh, I…Well, it's a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Toye. I, uh-"

"Just call me Maria, dear. None of that 'Mrs.' nonsense. It makes me feel so old!" She pressed a hand to her forehead, smiling sheepishly, before M.J. suddenly found herself in the clutches of her mother.

"You washed up last night, right?" she demanded, looking M.J. up and down as if trying to find a speck of dirt. M.J. rolled her eyes and nodded. "Good. Then sit down." She pushed her daughter into the chair as Maria began to smooth out the wedding dress, laying it primly on the bed. "It's going to take me ages to figure out what to do with this short hair of yours. Oh dear…" She tapped her foot, looking considerate, before Maria pressed forward, an eager smile on her face.

"Katherine, dear, why don't you go ahead and finish up the last of the food for the reception. I'll get her hair done, no problem." She pointed to her own head of hair, which was rather short. "I've got experience in this kind of thing. Abby, you too. Your mother could use the help." M.J. was confused; her and Joe's mothers seemed to behave like long lost sisters, and it was, frankly a bit disturbing to have two of them hanging around. It was like having a double dose of her own mother.

The door shut behind Katherine and Abby, and Maria smiled faintly in the mirror at M.J. "Your mother is very good at organizing, sweetheart. She's so happy for you…And so am I." She delicately began to pin and twirl M.J.'s hair in what seemed like a haphazard fashion. "Thank goodness your hair is naturally curly," she exclaimed as she pinned another section of hair.

"Anyway, the real reason I wanted to get you alone is…" She pinned another curl up above M.J.'s eyes. "I just want to tell you…welcome to the family, sweetheart. Joe really seems to be head over heels for you. I've never seen him this excited over anyone or anything in my life before. You mean so much to him, and I'm so happy you found one another, even if it wasn't under the best of circumstances."

M.J. opened her mouth to speak, but Maria shook her head. "I understand that what you two experienced over there brought you closer together, and I know you probably saw things that people like me and your mother could never imagine. I just want you to know that I'm glad Joe has you to talk to, to share memories and a new life with. If the war brought only one good thing, then let it be this…this day, you and him. This only happens once in your lifetime, sweetie. So don't you worry about anything but getting down that aisle and becoming Mrs. Joe Toye, all right?"

M.J. smiled as her stomach did flip-flops; Mrs. Joe Toye? Despite knowing she was going to be married since Berchtesgaden, she hadn't actually let the idea sink in until that moment. She was getting married. She was going to be someone's wife, and maybe, eventually, someone's mother. She was growing up. Her life was changing and everything was being turned upside down, in a good way, of course.

She put a hand to her stomach, feeling the butterflies begin to flutter, and gulped in a deep breath of air. "You all right, sweetheart?" Maria asked, carefully pinning another couple of curls that escaped their prison. "You're not….in a bad way, are you?"

"Am I-" M.J. choked out a laugh, nearly falling out of her chair. "Oh, God, no, no! I'm not pregnant! I'm just…well, I'm just a little nervous about all this. Things are gonna change forever. I can't believe this day is really here. It's…it's amazing. I'm just…so happy." She pressed her hands to her cheeks and Maria leaned down and smiled beside her, squeezing her shoulders encouragingly.

"Well, it'll be here and gone before you know it." She smiled impishly, and the look on her face made her seem ten years younger. "And then the fun part starts."

M.J. blushed from her neck to the roots of her hair. "Oh God, Maria. I really don't think you and I should discuss that."

Maria tilted her head back and laughed aloud, patting her future daughter-in-law's shoulder. "All right dear, all right. Now let's get you all dressed and get your makeup on. We only have a few hours left."

* * *

"Oh, my little girl is all grown up and getting married!"

The tears in Katherine's eyes were so compelling, that M.J. would've cried herself, if it hadn't been for Maria's very stern warning that if she messed up her makeup, she wouldn't baby-sit her future grandchildren for the first three years of their lives.

"Oh ma," M.J. sighed, a fond smile on her face. The sleek, clingy material of her wedding gown was draped across her shoes, done up with about a dozen buttons in the back. The sleeves were long, and practically sheer, and the veil pinned her to her elaborately done hair, courtesy of Maria, fell down past her hips. The moment Katherine had saw M.J. in the dress, hair and makeup done, she'd immediately began gushing about her daughter growing up and crying all over the place.

Maria was patting Katherine's back with a faint, watery smile of her own as Abby looked up at M.J. carefully. "You look beautiful, sis," she said with a nod, and M.J. leaned down to take the bouquet of flowers from her sister's hand, planting a kiss on her cheek.

"Thanks," she flushed with a smile, still feeling a bit odd wearing makeup and a dress all at the same time. "So, um, ma?"

Katherine dabbed at her eyes with a white kerchief, already dressed in her Sunday best for the wedding. "Yes dear?"

"Shouldn't we be going now?"

Katherine and Maria gave a little start, and almost immediately whisked M.J. and Abby out the door. M.J. nearly stumbled a few times on the dress and in her heels, but with a firm grip on both her arms courtesy of both her mother and Maria, she was unable to do much except keep moving forward.

She was bundled into a car and they practically flew to the church (And, M.J. was sure, broke a few traffic laws on the way). Before she even had a chance to really get her bearings, she was thrust out of the car, and dragged inside. She could faintly hear the murmurings of the crowd of people that waited outside.

M.J. felt her heart flutter in her chest as Abby was primped and checked over, before being pushed out onto the aisle to toss her flowers around. Gulping down her nervousness, M.J. focused on staring straight ahead.

In that moment, she really wished her father was still alive. He would've wanted to see his daughter get married, to walk her down the aisle and give her away. Luckily of course, she wasn't going to be alone. Her father wasn't alive to see this, but she'd already asked a special someone if he would be so kind as to walk her down the aisle instead.

Eugene stepped up beside her, looking rather dashing in a dark suit. He linked his arm with hers, leaning over to whisper in her ear. "I'm honored you asked me tuh do this, Mary," he murmured. "Your father would be very proud. I can safely say you're one of my best friends. I'm happy to be here on such a special occasion, and I'm proud that you chose me to give you away."

M.J. glanced over at the smiling Cajun, and offered him a grin of her own. "Gene, I can echo those sentiments a thousand times over. Thanks for doing this for me; it means so much. Now…" She turned and set her shoulders, raising her chin, and Gene chuckled quietly at the familiar set of her jaw.

"I've seen that look before," he drawled, squeezing her hand.

"Sure have, Gene. Now let's you and me march into this battle and win this war, huh?"

* * *

Bill had been the best man, Eugene had given her away, and Easy Company had taken up the entire front row, Christof wedged almsot uncomfortably between them. M.J. was glad he came; he'd promised to be there for the wedding, but had regretfully informed her that he had to leave town for a meeting in Manhattan right after. He wouldn't stick around for the reception. Still, she was glad and relieved he was there.

It was Christof who had supported her decision to open another store in Philadelphia, and even given her the funds to buy the new building; it _was _his store chain, after all.

Joe had never seen anyone quite as beautiful as M.J. He was pretty sure his heart stopped beating a couple times as he watched her walk down the aisle, Eugene at her shoulder.

When they stopped in front of them, Joe forgot to breathe.

When M.J. stepped up beside him, he was sure he was going to pass out.

When she laid her hand gently over his, his whole world rushed back in a blur of color, light and sound.

"You look _amazing_," he whispered softly, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles gently.

"You don't look so bad yourself," she remarked with a raised eyebrow, though he could see the blush rising up onto her cheeks.

"Yeah…What say we get this over with and get to the fun part?"

"Joe!" M.J. whispered hurriedly, eyes darting about to be sure no one heard his comment as her cheeks flamed red.

Joe chuckled softly. "I meant the _dancing_, sweetheart, but I'm looking forward to the other stuff too…" He wiggled his eyebrows for emphasis, and M.J. discreetly smacked him on the hand. The preacher had already begun his speech, but neither really paid attention to it; not the brightest idea, since the part where both had to agree was quickly coming up.

"What am I gonna do with you?" M.J. rolled her eyes, leaning closer to her soon to be husband as the preacher shot her an inquiring look, obviously waiting for an answer.

"Dunno…but you could marry me?"

"I guess that'll be fine…I do."

* * *

The reception was a lovely affair.

M.J.'s mother had gone all out; the food, the music, and even the alcohol was perfect. M.J. was certain her mother been planning this day since M.J. was born, but she didn't say anything about her suspicions.

As she and Joe glided across the dance floor, she laid her head on his chest, sighing dreamily. His chuckle bounced her head up and down, and she lifted it to stare at him through dark lashes. "What's so funny?"

"Nothin'," he murmured, leaning down to peck her lightly on the nose. "Mrs. Toye." M.J. felt a shiver of delight go through her, and beamed at him. "I just think this has been a pretty perfect day, if you ask me. The food, the drinks, the guests. Oh, and of course, _you_."

"Thanks for remembering me," M.J. remarked dryly, though there was a hint of humor in her voice.

"Always."

"Excuse me, but would you mind if I cut in?"

Joe and M.J. turned with equal amounts of surprise to see Richard Winters standing beside them with a faint smile on his face. Joe resisted the urge to salute, and merely nodded, shooting a half amused look his wife's way as he relinquished her hands to Richard.

"Well, Mr. Winters. To what do I owe the pleasure?" M.J. quipped, noting that he was a mite bit taller than Joe. She adjusted her strides to match his.

"I wanted to say congratulations," he rumbled amiably. "I didn't get a chance to the other night. The boys told me you stopped by to say 'hi.' Sorry I missed you; Lew and I were out seeing the sights. You're city is lovely, by the way."

"Ah, _Yonkers_. The place where amazing things are born, apparently. I can't imagine what all you went to see; we're kind of boring around here, for a big city at least. Are you enjoying the reception?"

"Very much," Dick admitted, nodding his head. "Your mother is a great cook. And it's nice to relax for a while after…well, after everything…" he trailed off, and M.J. nodded in understanding.

"Yeah. I _still _can't really believe this is all happening. I keep thinking I'm gonna wake up in Bastogne freezing my butt off, and it'll all have been some kind of pleasant dream." She glanced over at Joe, who was watching her with a smile in his dark eyes. "But it's most definitely _not _a dream. And if it is, please _don't _pinch me."

Dick chuckled, shaking his head. "I wouldn't dare."

The song ended, and the people on the floor and at the tables applauded. Dick stepped away from her and bowed in a gentlemanly manner, before he leaned forward and lightly kissed her cheek. "Congratulations again, M.J. I wish you the best of happiness. And I expect to hear from you when the first batch of kids are born." He winked boldly, though M.J. noted the slight color on his cheeks, and patted her shoulder, letting the next person take over the dance.

The next person happened to be Eugene. "Someone's blushin'," he remarked in amusement.

"Who, me or Dick?" she asked, trying to will away her own red cheeks. "Today has been a day _full _of innuendos." She shook her head, clicking her teeth faintly.

"It's been a good day," Gene remarked, smiling knowingly. "It'll get better. Anyways, M.J. I wanted to thank you."

"Thank me?"

"Yeah." Eugene looked thoughtful. "For always bein' there when we was…over there, ya know? It was good to have a friend I could talk to. And what you did for me…well the ring…I can't begin to express my gratitude. Not many people woulda done somethin' like that. So I jus' wanted to say thank you…for bein' my friend."

M.J. felt tears prickling at the corner of her eyes, and Gene ducked his head, catching her gaze with his. "Aw, now, don't cry 'cuz of me. I wasn't tryin' tuh make you cry. Come on. Where's the hard-headed lieutenant I know, huh?"

M.J. chuckled, swiping carefully at her eyes, not wanting to smudge her make-up. "Oh, Eugene. Everyone's been makin' me so emotional today, and now this. You're welcome, Gene. And while we're on the topic of thanks, I'd like to thank _you_."

Eugene looked startled. "For what?"

M.J. rolled her eyes. "_For what_, he asks…For being a friend. For being the best medic ever. For being the one to walk me down the aisle. For everything you've ever done that's deserved thanks but never gotten it. I don't know what kind of stock you put in yourself Gene, but you're one of the most amazing people I've ever met. And you better write and visit me when this is all over, or by golly, I'm gonna march myself down to Louisiana and _drag _you up here myself."

Gene blushed darkly under the lights of the dance floor, and smiled softly at M.J. "You bet I will, Mary. I don't think _anythin' _could keep me away."

"May I cut in?"

Both turned to see Joe standing beside them, smiling in his quiet way, and Eugene nodded. M.J. leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, eliciting another deep blush from the Cajun. "If I don't manage to see you before you leave, Gene, then you take care. And remember the threat about writing and visiting! I expect to meet the Mrs. Eugene Roe as _soon _as possible!"

"Of course," Eugene replied with a smile. "I wouldn't dream of anything else."

He relinquished M.J.'s hand to her new husband, and M.J. sighed softly. "Man, these heels are _killing _me."

Joe chuckled softly. "Well, we could always leave early. I doubt anyone would notice if we snuck out."

"Are you insane? Of course they'd noticed."

"Well, the boys would be happy to sneak us out, ya know."

"How about we get something to drink first, and _then _we sneak out?"

"Woman after my own heart."

As the song ended, Joe finally threw caution and 'private life' to the wind, and dipped M.J., much to her surprise, and in the traditional Hollywood way, he pressed his lips to hers in a kiss so deep, M.J. felt her toes tingle and fireworks shoot up behind her eyes. She came up with a gasp, her arms wound tight around Joe's neck and cheeks slightly flushed.

"Well, well, _well_, Mr. Toye. _What _has gotten into you?"

"You look _beautiful_," Joe murmured softly, his eyes shining with such intensity, that M.J. blushed and couldn't look away. "I never _really _got a chance to tell you that. I love you…more than anything."

M.J. leaned up to press her lips to his, and they stood quietly, lost in their own moment, as she breathed back softly; "I love you too." Joe deepened the kiss, and M.J. felt her heart racing in her chest as he crushed her against him and-

A round of applause and wolf whistles broke them out of their trance, and both turned to see the boys of Easy making quite a commotion (Much to the chagrin of the more 'reserved' guests). With matching blushes and identical smiles, M.J. and Joe made their way over to the tables occupied by their friends.

"So gents, what did ya think?" M.J. asked as she plopped herself down in a chair with a lack of grace which would've had her mother raising her eyebrows. Joe moved off to get their drinks.

"Of you, the reception, or that _kiss_?" Buck commented, and grinned widely when M.J. ducked her head.

"I think ya look lovely," Bill replied, taking her hand and planting a gentlemanly kiss. "And the food is good too," he added as an afterthought, grinning.

M.J. snorted in an unladylike manner. "Of course you'd mention the _food_. How about everyone else? Doin' all right?"

"We should be askin' _you _that," Luz remarked with a raising of his eyebrows. "That _was _quite a kiss out there."

"Joe is one lucky bastard," Perconte remarked, leaning back in his chair.

"You're gonna tip over if you keep doin' that," Babe warned him, before he turned to M.J. "Nice hair too, by the way."

"Nice _hair_?" Buck repeated, stifling a snort of laughter.

"'Ey, I happen to think she looks very pretty, and her hair is nice. All _right_?"

M.J. smacked a laughing Buck, and smiled charmingly at Babe. "Well, thank you Babe. I do appreciate a compliment. At least _some _of you are gentlemen," she grumbled, looking pointedly at Buck and Luz, who both shot her innocent looks that might've worked if they _were _innocent.

"It's an amazing reception. You mother did a great job," Lipton said kindly from his place across the table. "And you look like a _million _bucks."

"A million and _ten_!" Malarkey added, shooting her a cheeky grin and raising his glass her way.

"Why thank you, you two. Now that _that's _established," M.J. chuckled. "I should tell you that you should get out while you can. If I know my ma, she'll be lookin' fer me to gush about how pretty the wedding was. And if you boys get caught in the crossfire…well…I can't be responsible for what happens to you after that, but you can consider yourselves prisoners of war if she gets a hold of you."

A chorus of laughter followed her sentiments as Eugene slipped back into his chair, followed by Dick and Lewis, all looking faintly surprised to see M.J. at their table. "What're you doin' over here?" Lew remarked, raising his dark brows. "I thought you and Joe would've been long gone by now." The cheeky smile he shot her way told M.J. exactly what he was alluding to.

She picked up a cheese ball from the table, and chucked it at him. Not expecting it, the cheese bounced off his nose and into his drink. "What the-?…did you just throw _cheese _at me?"

M.J. folded her arms. "Yes I did. And don't try anything funny. I'm not above using Bill here as a human shield. Any and all cheese retaliation will have to go through him."

"Gee, thanks, M.J." Bill remarked dryly from where he sat beside her.

Joe reappeared with the drinks, and handed one to M.J. who took it and practically downed it with a grateful smile. "Geeze," Lewis remarked. "_Thirsty_, I take it?" He eyed the cheese balls and discreetly snatched one from the tray.

"Yeah, I sure am. I wanna get out of here as fast as possible." She lifted her gaze and scanned over the crowds, spotting her mother and Joe's mother near the food table, locked in a conversation with a group of women, and Abby leaning against Katherine's leg, looking faintly tired.

"I think it might be optimum sneaking out time," she remarked to Joe, who leaned down to gently kiss her on the lips.

"'Ey, get a room!" Luz joked, before Joe lifted his head and grinned cheekily.

"Oh, we _plan _on it."

M.J. groaned and hid her face in her hands. "One more innuendo, and I think I'm going to just die of embarrassment." The boys all chuckled at her remark, before Bill reached over and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.

"Anyways," she muttered from between her fingers. "We should get-"

Something chose that moment to bounce off her forehead and plop into her empty glass. M.J.'s head shot up to see a grinning Lewis as he nonchalantly sipped his drink. "Did you just throw _cheese _at my wife?" Joe asked incredulously, a hint of humor in his voice.

"I think he did," Perconte remarked gravely from beside him.

"You know what this means?" Malarkey asked, sharing a look with Buck, who nodded.

"Oh dear, God, please don't," M.J. muttered, though her own smile was quickly consuming her face.

"War!" Bill shouted, just as Dick practically leapt out of the way of a wayward cheese ball as appetizers began flying across the table. M.J., true to her word, used Bill as a human shield, and quickly leapt up, lest she get cheese all over her wedding dress; her mother might _literally _kill her for that.

"You guys are idiots," she grumbled good-naturedly as the war of cheese paused only long enough for everyone to say their goodbyes. "Anyway, if I don't manage to see ya guys in the next few days-"

"Which, if Joe has anything to say about it, you _won't_," Bill quipped.

M.J. glared at him. "-as I was _saying_. If I don't see ya, then I hope you guys all take care. And you better write _and _visit. I've already threatened Eugene with a long drag back here from Louisiana. And while I think I'll be seeing more of Babe _and _Bill than most people can handle, the _rest _of you need to write. And visit. Or _else_." She waved a fist threateningly, and grumbled good naturedly.

Each man rose from their seat to hug M.J. and kiss her on the cheek, and shake Joe's hand, offering their own individual congratulations, before the truce was over, and the cheese war started back up. Joe wrapped his arm around M.J.'s waist and tugged her to his side. "We oughta get while the gettin's good," he remarked. "I think the boys caught the attention of one Mrs. Toye and Mrs. Heartford. Whoops, and here they come. Let's get outta here."

The two made a hasty retreat as their parents descended on the table like twin balls of fury, at which point, a very perceptive Dick Winters made his own getaway, since he'd technically not been involved in the fight at all, except for his tactical 'dodge and avoid' maneuvers. He very wisely left the rest of the table to deal with the enemy.

* * *

Joe helped M.J. out of the car as they reached her apartment, which would be vacated just as soon as Joe had secured his job in Philly.

As they reached the stairs, earning a few amused and envious stares from passerby, Joe reached down and swept M.J. up into his arms, holding her bridal style as he made his way up the stairs towards her apartment. She squeaked and threw her arms around his neck, though the surprised effect was ruined by the smile she shot him.

"You don't have to carry me; I _can _walk, you know."

"It's tradition," Joe said with a faint shrug. "Plus, I've carried heavier things than you."

"You're so romantic," M.J. remarked dryly, but once more ruined the effect by planting a huge, wet kiss on his cheek that had Joe shooting her a faintly disgusted look.

"You just licked me."

"I kissed you!"

"Didn't feel that way."

"Take it as you will," she pouted, squeezing his neck in warning as they reached her apartment. M.J. was just glad she'd kept it unlocked; her neighbors had been watching it for her, and she was sure she hadn't been robbed blind in the process of letting someone else look after the apartment.

Joe turned the knob and opened the door, shutting it behind him with a foot. The slam made M.J. wince slightly, but she was too concerned with the butterflies wreaking havoc on her stomach to worry about disgruntled neighbors.

The apartment was silent, and they could hear the sounds of the world outside the window as it flew by, oblivious to the newly married couple and the beginning of their life together.

She and Joe locked eyes, quietly, thoughtfully communicating as one, before he turned and headed towards the bedroom. "Well, Mrs. Toye, shall we?" M.J.'s grip tightened on his neck, and she smiled softly.

"We shall, Mr. Toye."

She was pretty sure that _now _things would never be the same.

* * *

**A/N:** Okay. So I lied. Not the last chapter. One more, epilogue, and we'll be alllll done. Yay! I hope you guys liked it.


	13. Epilogue

**Author's Note: **Last chapter. The very last one. There's not gonna be a sequel, although I could always do some one shot side stories. I think it might give me a chance to keep up with my beloved M.J…. Anyways, thanks guys! It's been a long run, and I'm glad you stuck with me. You're all so awesome!

**Quote of the Day: "**Men, it's been a long war, it's been a tough war. You've fought bravely, proudly for your country. You're a special group. You've found in one another a bond that exists only in combat, among brothers. You've shared foxholes, held each other in dire moments. You've seen death and suffered together. I'm proud to have served with each and every one of you. You all deserve long and happy lives in peace." - Band of Brothers

**Title: **Just One Word

**Rating: **T (PG-13) Yeah. For language, death and probably violence. But mostly language and death.

**Summary: **An unknown solider. Tossed aside, she was forgotten. It would have been nice to know some one cared…And even though she was surrounded by a company of men, she was so very alone…

**Disclaimer: **Since these are real people, I own nothing but my characters. This story is purely fictional, and I hope no one is offended by it. Thank you.

**Epilogue**

The sunlight peeked through the window, bathing the bedroom in a warm, rich gold. The occupants of the bed stirred quietly, and with a groan, M.J. rolled over and whipped the covers away from her husband.

"Hey," Joe grumbled, reaching blindly for the blankets and finding only empty air. "Damn it, M.J. Not again." He sat up on his elbows, but his scowl soon morphed into a smile as he watched his wife sleeping soundly in the bed beside him. This was peace. This was what he fought so hard for. He sighed softly; yep, he deserved this.

Reaching over, he tweaked M.J.'s nose, watching as she wrinkled it in her sleep and twitched. "Time to get up," he murmured, poking her cheek lightly. M.J. growled and swatted at his hand, still half asleep and in no mood to wake up. "Come on, sweetheart. If you don't get up now, you won't have time to get everything ready for our guests."

Joe was glad he had good reflexes; if he hadn't, M.J.'s forehead would've smashed his nose and his entire day would've been ruined.

"Oh my God!" she cried, flying out from beneath the covers as fast as she could, which was, unfortunately, not very fast. "Why didn't you wake me earlier?"

Joe scowled and slid off his side of the bed. "Because _I _was sleeping. Until you stole the covers."

"Commandeered."

"Stole."

"Potato, potahto."

"Anyways, relax. They won't be here for another two hours. You've got plenty of time."

"Says the man who has no idea how long it takes to do hair."

Joe rolled his eyes as he pulled on his pants, buckling his belt and smoothing down his hair. "Yeah, yeah. Some of us are low maintenance," he teased, grabbing his wife in a hug as she made to step around him and wrapping his arms around her. It was a bit difficult, he realized, and it got harder everyday.

Joe smiled faintly as he ran a hand over the protruding swell of M.J.'s stomach and kissed her cheek. "Have you been thinking about names?" he asked suddenly, and M.J. laughed, turning in his arms with a bit of difficulty and pressing a kiss to his lips, which he accepted eagerly.

"Yes, yes I have. Rosie for a girl, and Daniel for a boy."

"Daniel?"

"After my father."

M.J. shot Joe a half-amused smile at the faintly sour look he gave her at the name; she knew that if she really wanted the name Daniel, Joe would let her have it, even if he grumbled about it the whole way. But M.J. knew, as many mothers do, that 'Daniel' would not be needed; she had a feeling, and a very strong one at that, that their first child would be a girl. Little Rosie.

"Oh, don't look so grumpy. Sheesh, we only just woke up and you're already scowling at the world." She pecked him lightly on the nose, and smoothed her hands over his bare chest, watching with delight as he shuddered under her fingers. She returned the shudder in kind when he gently pressed his lips to her neck, slowly trailing a line of kisses down her shoulder. "Anyway, I need to get ready, so release me, ye foul beast, so that I might smite the morning uglies with make-up and a shower!"

Joe rolled his eyes at M.J.'s dramatic declarations, and reluctantly released her to finish pulling on his clothes.

After getting married, Joe and M.J. had moved to Philadelphia, where they'd bought a three bedroom house just outside of town. With M.J.'s considerable success and salary from the shop and Joe's well-paying job, they'd been able to afford a rather nice house; it even had a large back and front yard and a porch, much to M.J.'s delight, as she had immediately occupied the space by a swinging bench.

Babe and Bill were still constants in their lives; Bill was going with a woman named Frannie, while Babe was 'keeping his options open,' as he liked to remind them every time M.J. nitpicked about his bachelor status. Both had apartments in town, but often stopped by and even stayed over in the guest room whenever they felt like it. It was, to M.J., a lot like having an extended family that wasn't related.

Eugene had come to visit a few times, and even Luz, Perconte, Malarkey, Buck, Nixon and Winters had stopped by at different intervals. M.J.'s mother and sister dropped by often to see the couple, and always brought news of the store, news from Christof, or of the goings-on in their lives. Abby, now twelve, was helping Katherine in the shop more, and, much to M.J.'s amusement, Katherine had said Abby was even beginning to become interested in boys.

Christof had married, and had a child of his own on the way. He also made sure to visit M.J., to 'check on the business' and make sure everything was going smoothly; M.J., however, knew he just wanted an excuse to come visit her.

Joe was already in the kitchen making coffee when M.J. emerged, looking harassed and ruffled, her cheeks faintly pink. "I swear, there are days when I wish for my old uniform more than anything. Not that I'd fit in it now, but you know what I mean. Dresses are so bothersome." She tugged at the material of her dress stretched tight over her stomach, looking faintly annoyed. "The second I get back to work, I'm starting a new line of maternity dresses, so help me God. The next baby is going to be all about comfort."

"Next?" Joe asked with a laugh, raising his mug to his lips and taking a drink. "I like the sound of that."

M.J. blushed prettily, and Joe was glad that even after almost a year and a half of marriage, he could still make her blush like he did the night of their wedding. "I think a new line would be perfect," he agreed, leaning forward to press a hand to her stomach and rub it gently, before he placed a soft kiss on her cheek. "My wife, the genius."

"Your wife, the whale," M.J. huffed, but smiled nonetheless. "If I get any bigger, you can go ahead and just call me the S.S. Mary Jane." She stepped around him to pull open the refrigerator door and grab the orange juice. "So," she began, pouring herself a glass. "When did everyone say they were getting here?"

"Early today, I think. You got all the food ready?"

"Yep, cooked it yesterday, while you were at work. And if I hear one word about my cooking, someone is getting chucked through a window."

"That's my girl."

M.J. smiled as she took a sip of the orange juice, grimacing slightly at the mixing taste of post-tooth brush toothpaste taste and orange juice together, when the doorbell rang. "That'll be them," Joe said smoothly as M.J. gave a start and nearly dropped the glass. While she spent her time trying desperately to recover it before she could really drop it, Joe headed to the door, pulling it open to reveal some friendly, familiar faces.

"'Ey, Joe!"

M.J. finally regained her composure and peered over Joe's shoulder as she bustled into the front room. "Howdy boys!" she called, waving cheerily. "Come on in. Joe, you're blocking the door. Move!" She swatted him on the shoulder lightly, and with an exaggerated eye-roll, Joe moved aside to let their guests in.

A multitude of familiar faces and greetings assailed the couple as their friends from Easy piled in through the door. After a somewhat inattentive Perconte nearly knocked over a vase (Thank goodness again for Joe's quick reflexes), M.J. quickly led them to the sitting room, where they haphazardly arranged themselves around the room and on the floor.

M.J. had been thrown an impromptu 'baby shower' by her mother, in which Frannie, Christof's wife, Elizabeth, Abby, Katherine, Maria, and a few other close friends and relatives of Katherine had attended. While she got a lot of gifts, M.J. couldn't help but feel that she'd rather have celebrated the 'baby shower' with her good friends, and decided to invite as many of them as would come over for a small 'baby shower/party' of their own. She'd made sure to stress the free beer, which had automatically guaranteed a few arrivals.

Perconte, Luz, Malarkey, Buck, Nixon, Winters, Bill, Babe, Eugene, and Lipton, the same roster from the wedding, had all decided to attend. M.J. received many other letters from the other boys she'd invited with apologies for being unable to come, and even the odd gift here and there for the baby, which she was quite touched by.

"Welcome, gents," she said with a laugh once everyone had arranged themselves comfortably.

"Look at you, M.J.!" George shouted, laughing as he jumped up to embrace her awkwardly. "You're getting so big."

"Gee, thanks, George," M.J. remarked dryly as she patted his back.

"Oh, I-I didn't mean…dang it, you know what I meant!"

"I know George," M.J. laughed, raising an eyebrow as the others stood to embrace her, albeit somewhat awkwardly, as they had to work around her stomach.

"Well, I'll be," Lewis commented, folding his arms over his chest as he sat back in his seat. "Never thought I'd see the day. So, when's the little one due?"

"I don't know if that was a compliment or an insult," M.J. commented wryly, but smiled despite it. "Pretty soon. About another month, I'm told. Although I imagine if I get any bigger, I'll need my own zip code. I wish this kid was out already. I mean, honestly." She snorted in exasperation, taking the glass of orange juice she'd forgotten as Joe reappeared to hand it to her, carrying two bottles of what looked like beer in his other hand.

"Fellas," he nodded. "Drink up. There's plenty more in the fridge. I imagine we'll be getting the food out soon." He glanced questioningly at his wide, and she nodded briskly.

"That's right!" she exclaimed, as Perconte and George leapt up to raid the fridge for the promised beer, M.J. hot on their heels. Eugene wandered in after her, a faint smile on his face.

"Let me give you a han'," he told her quietly, sidestepping George and Frank as they rushed past him carrying their 'haul.'

"Aw, thanks Gene," M.J. smiled, patting her stomach. "Bending and reaching isn't as easy as it used to be. You have no idea how lucky men are that they can't have babies. You bastards." She grinned cheekily as she opened the fridge and motioned towards the plates of deviled eggs, sandwiches, and other foods arranged on the shelves.

Eugene coughed to hide his blush, and quickly went to work pulling out the food and setting it on the counter. "So how have you and the wife been since your last visit, Gene?" M.J. asked as she began to uncover the food, smiling offhandedly over her shoulder.

"Been good," he said with a nod and a smile of his own. "We're actually expectin' a baby of our own. Found out a week ago, actually. I was gonna write, but when ya called and asked me to come up fer the showuh, well, I figured I could tell ya now instead."

M.J.'s squeal and sudden tackle/hug were quite enough of an answer as to how she felt about that. "Oh my God, Gene!" she shouted, throwing her hands in the air. "Oh, I'm _so _happy for you!"

The sound of pounding feet interrupted her congratulations, as Joe, Bill and Dick suddenly appeared in the kitchen. "What's wrong?" Joe demanded almost frantically, eyes slightly wide as he looked M.J. up and down, as if wondering if the babies had been born and were hanging around nearby.

"Geeze, you guys," she muttered. "I was just congratulating Gene on his new bundle of joy. Or rather, bundle of joy to be."

"I'll drink to that!" Babe's voice called from the living room, followed by a series of 'Here, here!' from the rest of the boys.

M.J. rolled her eyes. "You guys can be so high strung."

"Old habits die hard," Dick said with his customary smile, reaching forward to pat her hand in a gentle, friendly way. "Congratulations are in order, in person, I believe."

"Why thank you, good sir. I got your letter by the way. I do appreciate you writing. Keeping up with all of you is all that keeps me sane."

"Hey!"

"Sorry Joe, but I need me some outside contact when I'm cooped up in here, ya know?"

"Fair enough."

M.J. beamed up at the former commander of Easy Company, wiggling her eyebrows. "So how about you? How goes it in the romance department, eh?" She laughed out loud when Dick's face flushed a deep red, and he cleared his throat.

"Ah, well, I don't have time for that, really. I'm working-"

"Working? Are you serious? Surely Lewis knows the importance of allowing you some days off for 'personal reasons,' right?"

"Say what?" Lewis asked, suddenly appearing in the kitchen. He raised his dark brows, gaze darting between M.J. and a blushing Dick, and grinned. "Oh, you asked him about his love life, didn't you?"

"How'd you know?"

"He always gets that look when I tell him he needs a nice lady friend to take care of him." He rolled his eyes faintly. "No one ever listens to me. I was an _intelligence _officer for Christ's sake. I think I know what I'm talking about."

M.J. snorted. "That makes two of us. But just because you were an _intelligence _officer, doesn't mean you know anything about women."

"Says who?"

"Says me. Now make yourself useful and help Gene take the food out into the living room. Shoo!"

"Did you just 'shoo' me?"

"Damn straight."

Grumbling, Lewis helped a very amused Eugene carry the food trays out, where a chorus of 'All right, sandwiches!' and 'Oh my god, I love eggs!' echoed from the living room. M.J. shook her head. "You boys will never change," she grumbled good-naturedly.

"Would you have it any other way?" Bill asked wryly, winking from where he sat at the island in the kitchen beside Joe.

"I doubt it," M.J. responded, pretending to be exasperated. "Now why don't we all go back in there and face the hoards? I wanna open those gifts. And please, for the love of all that's holy, don't let any of them be dresses…"

* * *

From their home near the outskirts of town, the stars sparkled brilliantly. It was one of the things M.J. loved so much about living where they did; neither _in _the city, nor _out _of it. Just right. Just perfect.

Leaning back in the rocking swing, she placed a hand over her stomach, and looked up when she felt a blanket drape over her and tucked in behind her back. "Hey," Joe murmured, settling beside her on the bench and wrapping his arm around her shoulders. M.J. leaned into his warmth and comforting embrace, closing her eyes as the scent that was indefinably 'Joe,' pervaded her senses.

"Hey," she replied tiredly, a small sigh escaping her parted lips.

The 'partygoers' had long since departed, and while many had been invited to stay in the spare bedrooms, all had declined in an effort to allow the couple and the soon to be mother some time to rest and relax for the weekend, promising to visit bright and early the next morning for breakfast and lunch. They'd stayed for quite some time, and the gifts they'd brought had all been well-received and very lovely (And, much to M.J.'s surprise, none had been dresses, thank goodness).

"Long day," M.J. sighed again, pulling the blanket around Joe to cover them both.

"It sure was," he nodded quietly, letting his head rest atop hers.

"You know what this reminds me of?"

"Hm?" Joe questioned, closing his eyes.

"Bastogne. The foxholes? Except, with a whole lot more stars and not as much cold."

Joe chuckled, making M.J.'s head bounce on his chest. "Yeah, it kinda does, doesn't it? I like being here much better though." He gently kissed his wife's forehead, wrapping his other arm around her to cuddle her and their unborn daughter against his side.

"I like it much better here too, Joe," M.J. murmured, a smile on her lips as she opened her eyes to gaze up into her husband's face. "I like it a lot."

* * *

**A/N: **So there ya go. Officially finished! Whoo! I am actually working on another story, which has proved to be a monster so far, but the words are flowing surprisingly easily for that one. I also have another idea for another story, so that may be thrown out there quickly at some point too. Thanks for sticking around everyone, and thanks for reading!


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